PIONEER  MOTHERS  OF  THE  WEST; 


OR, 


DARING    AND    HEROIC    DEEDS 
OF  AMERICAN  WOMEN. 

COMPRISING 

THRILLING  EXAMPLES  OF  COURAGE,  FORTITUDE^ 
DEVOTEDNESS,  AND  SELF-SACRIFICE, 


JOHN    FROST,  LL.D., 

AUTHOR  OF  ««  PICTOBIAL   HISTORY    OF  THE  WORLD,"  "  HISTORY 
OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,"  ETC. 


BOSTON: 
LEE     AND     SHEPARD. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  bj 

G.    G.    EVANS, 

it  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Easteia  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


rof  t  Library 


PKEPACK 


THE  heroism  of  woman  is  the  heroism  of  the  heart. 
Her  deeds  of  daring  and  endurance  are  prompted  by 
affection.  While  her  husband,  her  children,  and  all 
the  other  objects  of  tenderness  are  safe,  her  heroic 
capabilities  repose  in  peace,  and  external  troubles  have 
little  power  to  disturb  her  serenity.  But  when  danger 
threatens  the  household,  when  the  lurking  savage  is 
seen  near  the  dwelling,  or  the  war-whoop  is  heard  in 
the  surrounding  woods,  the  matron  becomes  a  heroine, 
and  is  ready  to  peril  life,  without  a  moment's  hesita 
tion,  in  the  approaching  conflict.  When  the  family  is 
overpowered,  and  the  dwelling  burnt  with  all  its  pre 
cious  household  treasures,  she  submits  without  a  mur 
mur  ;  but  when  the  life  of  husband  or  child  is  menaced, 
Bhe  throws  herself  beneath  the  threatening  tomahawk, 


IV  PREFACE. 

and  is  ready  to  receive  the  descending  blow  to  save 
the  loved  one. 

Captured  and  dragged  away  from  her  home,  she 
endures  fatigue,  braves  danger,  bear.s  contumely,  and 
sometimes  deals  the  death-blow  to  the  sleeping  captors, 
to  save  the  lives  of  her  children.  . 

Such  is  woman's  heroism.  Such  heroism  it  is  the 
purpose  of  this  collection  of  narratives  to  illustrate. 
If  the  reader  will  bear  in  mind,  as  he  peruses  these 
thrilling  histories  of  woman's  noble  deeds,  that  affec 
tion  prompts  her  daring,  this  volume  will  afford  him 
much  instruction  as  to  the  true  character  of  woman. 
It  will  show  her  noble  generosity  and  self-devotion  in 
their  true  light ;  and  will  prove  that  chivalrous  cour 
tesy,  which,  by  common  consent,  is  always  and  every 
where  in  our  noble  country,  accorded  to  woman,  is  no 
more  than  her  well  merited  reward. 

The  Earl  of  Ellesmere,  in  his  late  speech  at  the 
Boston  School  Festival,  said  that  "in  America  an 
unprotected  woman  is  unknown."  So  let  it  be  for 
ever! 


CONTENTS. 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST, 1 

MRS.  HOWE, 1C 

MRS.  NEFF, 17 

MRS.  PORTER,.. 2C 

MRS.  CLENDENEW, 22 

THE  WIFE  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  DANIEL  BOONB, 26 

THE  WAR- WOMAN  CREEK, 32 

ELIZABETH  ZANE, 37 

MRS.  C  UNNINGHAM, 47 

MRS.  BLAND  AND  MRS.  POLK,.  .    52 

MASSY  HERBESOJS, 55 

MRS.  WHITE, 59 

MRS.  DUREK, 61 

MRS.  ROWAN, 65 

Miss  HECKEWELDER,. 68 

MRS.  TACKETT,  THE  CAPTIVE, 73 

MRS.  MERRIL, 79 

THE  ESCAPE  OF  MRS.  C.OLEMAN, 81 

THE  SISTERS  FLEMING, 85 

MRS.  PARKER  AND  DAUGHTER, 100 

EXPERIENCE  BOZARTH, 104 

A  HEROINE  WITHOUT  A  NAME, 107 

MRS.  RUHAMA  BuiLDERBACK, 109 

THE  WIDOW  SCRAGGS, 114 

(v) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

MRS.  WOODS 120 

THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY, 122 

HEROISM  OF  WOMEN  AT  BRYANT'S  STATION, 164 

MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO, 169 

MttS.   PURSLEY, 184 

MARY  HART,..^ 191 

A,  YOUNG  HEROINE, 204 

MRS.  DAVIESS, 206 

MARY  CHASE, 213 

MRS.  DORION, 232 

WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS, 239 

Miss  WASHBURN, 268 

THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE, 279 

MRS.  JORDAN'S  CAPTIVITY, 294 

CAPTIVITY  AND  SUFFERINGS  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY, 299 

THE  EVENTFUL  SHOT.  ..  346 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 


THE  denizens  of  the  Eastern  States  of  our  glorious 
union  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  west  as  the  regions 
of  romance  and  adventure — a  sort  of  American  fairy 
land,  whose  people  are  ennobled  by  generous  and  chi- 
valric  sentiments,  whose  history  abounds  with  thrilling 
adventures,  startling  incidents,  and  surprising  changes 
— a  land  where  cities  spring  up  with  a  celerity  which 
rivals  the  feats  of  Aladdin's  palace-building  Genius — 
and  where  fortunes  are  made  with  a  facility  only 
surpassed  by  the  wonders  of  Aladdin's  Lamp, 

But  the  present  security  and  prosperity  of  the  west 
have  been  purchased  by  the  blood  of  the  first  settlers. 
Every  inch  of  their  beautiful  country  had  to  be  won 
from  a  cruel  and  savage  foe  by  unheard-of  toils, 
dangers,  and  conflicts.  In  these  terrible  border  wars, 
which  marked  the  early  years  of  the  western  settle 
ments,  the  men  signalized  themselves  by  prodigies  of 
valor,  enterprise,  and  endurance ;  while  the  women 

(7) 


8  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

rivalled  them  in  all  these  virtues,  affording  often 
the  most  splendid  examples  of  that  spirit  of  self-sac 
rifice  and  devotion  which  can  only  be  prompted  hy 
disinterested  affection. 

Of  these  instances  of  female  heroism,  running 
through  the  whole  period  of  western  history,  and 
coming  down  to  the  present  time,  many  have  been 
preserved  by  historians  and  annalists ;  and  it  is  our 
purpose  in  the  present  volume  to  lay  them  before  the 
reader  in  their  native,  unadorned  simplicity.  The 
actions  speak  for  themselves,  and  require  no  embel 
lishment  of  fine  writing.  We  shall,  wherever  it  is 
practicable,  preserve  the  language  of  the  original  nar 
rator  with  all  its  racy  originality.  This  course  of 
proceeding  we  regard  as  most  certain  to  present  a 
true  picture  of  the  persons  and  events  which  will 
illustrate  the  early  history  of  the  west.  A  single 
expression,  some  homely  epithet,  or  household  word, 
often  teems  with  associations,  and  brings  before  us 
the  true  character  of  the  scene  in  all  its  life-like  fea 
tures — all  its  original  vividness  of  coloring. 

The  heroic  deeds  of  these  noble  American  woraen, 
who  first  confronted  the  dangers  of  the  western  wil 
derness  are  full  of  instruction.  They  teach  us  what 
women  are  capable  of;  they  show  us  how  dearly  the 
blessings  we  now  enjoy  were  purchased  by  those  who 
went  before  us  in  the  march  of  ages,  they  furnish 
abundant  themes  for  meditation  and  study  in  the  mys 
teries  of  human  character — and  they  present  to  us, 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST.  9 

by  the  strong  contrast  of  past  times  with  the  present, 
occasion  for  thankfulness,  that  in  the  present  age,  and 
in  our  own  quiet  homes,  the  danger  of  the  savage 
border  wars  and  Indian  massacres  has  passed  away 
never  to  return. 

Our  women  of  the  present  age  may  be  heroines,  no 
doubt,  in  another  way;  and  the  occasions  for  self- 
sacrifice  and  noble  generosity  will  still  present  them 
selves  and  still  be  heroically  met.  But  the  original 
Heroines  of  the  West  will  always  maintain  their  un 
rivalled  place  in  the  annals  of  our  country,  illustrious, 
revered,  and  "  alone  in  their  glory." 


MES.  HOWE. 

The  following  narrative  we  copy  from  a  periodical. 
It  appears  to  have  been  extracted  from  a  biography 
of  General  Putnam. 

"  At  the  house  of  Colonel  Schuyler,  Major  Putnam 
became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Howe,  a  fair  captive, 
whose  history  would  not  be  read  without  emotion,  if  it 
could  be  written  in  the  same  manner  in  which  I  have 
often  heard  it  told.  She  was  still  young  and  hand 
some  herself,  though  she  had  two  daughters  of  mar 
riageable  age.  Distress,  which  had  taken  somewhat 
from  the  original  redundancy  of  her  bloom,  and  added 
a  softening  paleness  to  her  cheeks,  rendering  her  ap 
pearance  the  more  engaging.  Her  face,  that  seemed 
to  have  been  formed  for  the  assemblage  of  dimpled 
smiles,  was  clouded  with  care.  The  natural  sweetness 
was  not,  however,  soured  by  despondency  and  petu 
lance,  but  chastened  by  humility  and  resignation. 
This  mild  daughter  of  sorrow  looked  as  if  she  had 
known  the  day  of  prosperity,  when  serenity  and  glad 
ness  of  soul  were  the  inmates  of  her  bosom.  That 
day  was  past,  and  the  once  lively  features  now  as- 
Burned  a  tender  melancholy,  which  witnessed  her  irre« 
(10) 


MRS.  HOWE. 

• 

parable  loss.  She  needed  not  the  customary  weeds 
of  mourning,  or  the  fallacious  pageantry  of  woe,  to 
prove  her  widowed  state.  She  was  in  that  stage  of 
affliction  when  the  excess  is  so  far  abated  as  to  per 
mit  the  subject  to  be  drawn  into  conversation,  without 
opening  the  wound  afresh.  It  is  then  rather  a  source 
of  pleasure  than  pain  to  dwell  upon  the  circumstances 
in  narration.  Every  thing  conspired  to  make  her 
story  interesting.  Her  first  husband.had  been  killed 
and  scalped  by  the  Indians  some  years  before.  By 
an  unexpected  assault,  in  1756,  upon  Fort  Dummer, 
where  she  happened  to  be  present  with  Mr.  Howe,  her 
second  husband,  the  savages  carried  the  fort,  mur 
dered  the  greater  part  of  the  garrison,  mangled  in 
death  her  husband,  and  led  her  away  with  seven 
children  into  captivity.  She  was  for  some  months 
kept  with  them ;  and  during  their  rambles  she  was 
frequently  on  the  point  of  perishing  with  hunger,  and 
as  often  subjected  to  hardships  seemingly  intolerable 
to  one  of  so  delicate  a  frame.  Some  time  after  the 
career  of  her  miseries  began,  the  Indians  selected  a 
couple  of  their  young  men  to  marry  her  daughters. 
The  fright  and  disgust  which  the  intelligence  of  this 
intention  occasioned  to  these  poor  young  creatures, 
added  infinitely  to  the  sorrows  and  perplexity  of  the 
frantic  mother.  To  prevent  the  hated  connection,  all 
the  activity  of  female  resource  was  called  intp  exer 
tion.  She  found  an  opportunity  of  conveying  to  the 
governor  a  petition,  that  her  daughters  might  be  re- 


12  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

ceived  into  a  convent  for  the  sake  of  securing  the 
salvation  of  their  souls.  Happily  the  pious  fraud 
succeeded. 

"  About  the  same  time  the  savages  separated,  and 
carried  off  her  other  five  children  into  different  tribes. 
She  "was  ransomed  by  an  elderly  French  officer,  for 
four  Jiundred  livres.  Of  no  avail  were  the  cries  of 
this  tender  mother — a  mother  desolated  by  the  loss 
of  her  children,  who  were  thus  torn  from  her  fond 
embraces,  and  removed  many  hundred  miles  from 
each  other,  into  the  utmost  recesses  of  Canada.  With 
them  (could  they  have  been  kept  together)  she  would 
most  willingly  have  wandered  to  the  extremities  of  the 
world,  and  accepted  as  a  desirable  portion  the  cruel 
lot  of  slavery  for  life.  But  she  was  precluded  from 
the  sweet  hope  of  ever  beholding  them  again.  The 
insufferable  pang  of  parting,  and  the  idea  of  eternal 
separation,  planted  the  arrows  of  despair  deep  in  her 
soul.  Though  all  the  world  was  no  better  than  a 
desert,  and  all  its  inhabitants  were  then  indifferent  to 
her,  yet  the  loveliness  of  her  appearance  in  sorrow 
had  awakened  affections  which,  in  the  aggravation  of 
her  troubles,  were  to  become  a  new  source  of  afflictions. 

"  The  officer  who  bought  her  of  the  Indians  had  a 
son,  who  also  held  a  commission,  and  resided  with  his 
father.  During  her  continuance  in  the  same  house, 
at  St.  John's,  the  double  attachment  of  the  father  and 
son,  rendered  her  situation  extremely  distressing.  It  is 
true,  the  calmness  of  age  delighted  to  gaze  respectfully 


MRS.  HOWE.  13 

on  her  beauty ;  but  the  impetuosity  of  youth  was  fired 
to  madness  by  the  sight  of  her  charms.  One  day,  the 
son,  whose  attentions  had  been  long  lavished  upon  her 
in  vain,  finding  her  alone  in  a  chamber,  forcibly  seized 
her  hand,  and  solemnly  declared  that  he  would  now 
satiate  the  passion  which  she  had  so  long  refused  to 
indulge.  She  recurred  to  entreaties,  struggles,  and 
tears,  those  prevalent  female  weapons  which  the  dis 
traction  of  danger  not  less  than  the  promptness  of 
genius  is  wont  to  supply ;  while  he  in  the  delirium  of 
vexation  and  desire,  snatched  a  dagger,  and  swore  he 
would  put  an  end  to  her  life  if  she  persisted  to  struggle. 
Mrs.  Howe,  assuming  the  dignity  of  conscious  virtue, 
told  him  it  was  what  she  most  ardently  wished,  and 
bade  him  plunge  the  weapon  through  her  heart,  since 
the  mutual  importunities  and  jealousies  of  such  rivals 
had  rendered  her  life,  though  innocent,  more  irksome 
and  insupportable  than  death  itself.  Struck  with  a 
momentary  compunction,  he  seemed  to  relent,  and  relax 
his  hold ;  and  she,  availing  herself  of  his  irresolution, 
or  absence  of  mind,  escaped  down  the  stairs.  In  her 
disordered  state,  she  told  the  whole  transaction  to  his 
father,  who  directed  her,  in  future,  to  sleep  in  a  small 
bed  at  the  foot  of  that  in  which  his  wife  lodged.  The 
affair  soon  reached  the  governor's  ears,  and  the  young 
officer  was,  shortly  afterwards,  sent  on  a  tour  of  duty 
to  Detroit. 

"  This  gave  hep  a  short  respite ;  but  she  dreaded 
his   return,   and   the  humiliating   insults   for   which 


14  HfcnuiC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST 

she  might  be  reserved.  Her  children,  too,  were  ever 
present  in  her  melancholy  mind.  A  stranger,  a  widow, 
a  captive,  she  knew  not  where  to  apply  for  relief.  She 
had  heard  of  the  name  of  Schuyler — she  was  yet  tc 
learn  that  it  was  only  another  appellation  for  the  friend 
of  suffering  humanity.  As  that  excellent  man  was 
on  his  way  from  Quebec  to  the  Jerseys,  under  a  parole, 
for  a  limited  time,  she  came,  with  feeble  and  trem 
bling  steps,  to  him.  The  same  maternal  passion  which 
sometimes  overcomes  the  timidity  of  nature  in  the 
birds,  when  plundered  of  their  callow  nestlings,  em 
boldened  her,  notwithstanding  her  native  diffidence, 
to  disclose  those  griefs  which  were  ever  ready  to  de 
vour  her  in  silence.  While  her  delicate  aspect  was 
heightened  to  a  glowing  blush,  for  fear  of  offending 
by  an  inexcusable  importunity,  or  of  transgressing 
the  rules  of  propriety,  by  representing  herself  as  being 
an  object  of  admiration,  she  told,  with  artless  simpli 
city,  all  the  story  of  her  woes.  Colonel  Schuyler, 
from  that  moment,  became  her  protector,  and  endea 
voured  to  procure  her  liberty.  The  person  who  pur 
chased  her  of  the  Indians,  unwilling  to  part  with  so 
fair  a  purchase,  demanded  a  thousand  livres  as  her 
ransom.  But  Colonel  Schuyler,  on  his  return  to 
Quebec,  obtained  from  the  governor  an  order,  in  con 
sequence  of  which  Mrs.  Howe  was  given  up  to  him 
for  four  hundred  livres ;  nor  did  his  active  goodness 
rest  until  every  one  of  her  five  sons  was  restored 
to  her. 


MRS.  HOWE.  15 

"  Business  having  made  it  necessary  that  Colonel 
Schuyler  should  precede  the  prisoners  who  were  ex 
changed,  he  recommended  the  fair  captive  to  the  pro 
tection  of  his  friend  Putnam.  She  had  just  recovered 
from  the  meazles,  when  the  party  was  preparing  to 
set  off  for  their  homes.  By  this  time  the  young 
French  officer  had  returned,  with  his  passion  rather 
increased  than  abated  by  absence.  He  pursued  her 
wheresoever  she  went,  and,  although  he  could  make 
no  advances  in  her  affection,  he  seemed  resolved,  by 
perseverance,  to  carry  his  point.  Mrs.  Howe,  terri 
fied  by  his  treatment,  was  obliged  to  keep  constantly 
near  Major  Putnam,  who  informed  the  young  officer 
that  he  should  protect  that  lady  at  the  risk  of  his  life. 

"  In  the  long  march  from  captivity,  through  an  in 
hospitable  wilderness,  encumbered  with  five  small 
children,  she  suffered  incredible  hardships.  Though 
endowed  with  masculine  fortitude,  she  was  truly  fe 
minine  in  strength,  and  must  have  fainted  by  the 
way,  had  it  not  been  for  the  assistance  of  Major  Put 
nam.  There  were  a  thousand  good  offices  which  the 
helplessness  of  her  condition  demanded,  and  which 
the  gentleness  of  his  nature  delighted  to  perform. 
He  assisted  in  leading  her  little  ones,  and  in  carrying 
them  over  the  swampy  grounds  and  runs  of  water, 
with  which  their  course  was  frequently  intersected. 
He  mingled  his  own  mess  with  that  of  the  widow  and 
the  fatherless,  and  assisted  them  in  supplying  and 
preparing  tl  .eir  provisions.  Upon  arriving  within  the 


16  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

settlements,  they  experienced  a  reciprocal  regret  at 
separation,  and  were  only  consoled  by  the  expectation 
of  soon  mingling  in  the  embraces  of  their  former 
acquaintances  and  dearest  connections. 

"  After  the  conquest  of  Canada,  in  1760,  she  made 
a  journey  to  Quebec,  in  order  to  bring  back  her  two 
daughters,  whom  she  had  left  in  a  convent.  She 
found  one  of  them  married  to  a  French  officer.  The 
other  having  contracted  a  great  fondness  for  the  reli 
gious  sisterhood,  with  reluctance  consented  to  leave 
them  and  return  home." 


MRS.  NEFF. 

THE  terrible  defeat  of  the  colonial  forces  under  Ge 
neral  Braddock,  in  1755,  was  followed  by  a  series  of 
savage  depredations  unparalleled  upon  the  frontier. 
The  border  settlements  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania, 
being  left  completely  exposed,  were  nearly  abandoned. 
The  inhabitants  fled  to  the  forts  and  block-houses, 
leaving  their  homes,  which  had  cost  them  much  labor 
and  hardship,  to*  the  torch  of  the  Indian.  Death  and 
desolation  visited  a  great  extent  of  that  beautiful  re 
gion  where  civilized  men  had  begun  to  tan\e  the 
wilderness. 

Some  of  the  borderers  were  not  fortunate  enough 
to  reach  places  of  security  before  the  bursting  of  the 
storm.  Among  these  was  a  Mrs.  Neff,  who  lived  upon 
the  south  branch  of  the  Wappatomoca.  She  was  sur 
prised  by  a  party  of  fourteen  savages,  who  seized  and 
bound  her,  plundered  her  house,  and  then  started  for 
2  (17) 


18  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

their  homes  by  way  of  Fort  Pleasant.  On  the  second 
night  of  their  journey,  they  reached  the  vicinity  of 
the  fort,  which  stood  on  the  south  branch  of  the  Po 
tomac,  near  what  is  known  as  "the  trough."  Mrs. 
Neff  was  left  in  the  care  of  an  old  Indian.  The  other 
warriors  separated  into  parties,  that  they  might  better 
watch  the  fort. 

Mrs.  Neff  was  a  woman  of  cool,  determined  spirit. 
She  seemed  perfectly  resigned  to  her  captivity,  but 
was  nevertheless  eagerly  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
escape,  and  to  give  the  garrison  notice  of  the  enemy 
being  at  hand.  At  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  she  dis 
covered  that  the  old  warrior  was  asleep.  Noiselessly 
stealing  from  his  side,  she  ran  off  through  the  woods. 
Soon  after,  the  old  Indian  awoke,  saw  that  his  pri 
soner  had  escaped,  and  gave  the  alarm  by  firing  his 
gun  and  raising  a  yell.  But  the  courageous  woman 
had  the  advantage  of  a  long  start,  and  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  ground.  She  ran  between  the  two 
parties  who  were  watching  for  her,  and  after  a  short 
feut  fearful  race,  succeeded  in  reaching  Fort  Pleasant. 
The  garrison  being  aroused,  Mrs.  Neff  communicated 
information  as  to  the  position  of  the  Indians,  and  a 
sally  was  resolved  upon  the  next  morning. 

After  the  escape  of  their  captive,  the  Indians  as 
sembled  in  a  deep  glen  near  the  fort,  where  they  in 
tended  to  lie  in  ambush,  for  stragglers.  Early  the 
next  morning,  sixteen  men,  well  mounted  and  armed, 
left  the  fort,  and  after  a  short  search  discovered  the 


MRS.  NEFF.  19 

encampment  of  the  enemy  by  the  smoke  of  their  fire. 
The  whites  divided  themselves  into  two  parties,  in 
tending  to  inclose  the  Indians.  But  a  small  dog 
starting  a  rabbit,  gave  the  red  men  notice  of  the  ap 
proach  of  danger,  and  cautiously  moving  off,  they 
passed  between  the  two  parties  of  white  men  unobserved, 
took  position  between  them  and  their  horses,  and  opened 
a  destructive  fire.  A  desperate  battle  ensued,  both 
parties  displayed  the  most  indomitable  courage.  The 
Indians  were  victorious,  chiefly  from  the  slaughter 
committed  by  their  first  fire.  Seven  of  the  whites 
were  killed,  and  four  wounded.  The  remaining  five 
retreated  to  the  fort.  The  loss  of  the  Indians,  how 
ever,  was  so  severe  that  the  survivors  made  an  imme 
diate  march  for  home.  They  had  intended  to  sur 
prise  the  fort ;  but  the  courage  of  Mrs.  Neff  frustrated 
their  design,  and  saved  a  large  number  of  the  garrison 
from  massacre.  The  heroine  survived  the  perils  of  the 
border  war,  and  was  held  in  high  esteem  for  her  many 
good  qualities  -of  head  and  heart. 


MRS.  PORTER. 

DURING  the  terrible  Indian  war,  upon  the  frontier 
of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia,  instigated  by  the  great 
Pontiac,  a  Mr.  Porter  resided  in  Sinking  Valley, 
Huntingdon  county,  Pennsylvania.  One  day,  when  he 
had  gone  to  the  mill,  leaving  Mrs.  Porter  alone,  some 
Indians  approached  the  house.  Mrs.  Porter  first 
caught  sight  of  one  savage  coming  towards  the  door. 
Her  husband  being  a  militia  captain,  had  a  sword  and 
a  rifle  in  the  house.  She  boldly  took  down  the  sword, 
and  having  set  the  door  about  half  open,  waited 
behind  it  until  the  Indian  Centered,  when  she  split  his 
head  open.  Another  savage  then  entered,  and  met 
the  same  fate.  The  third,  seeing  the  slaughter  of  his 
comrades,  did  not  attempt  to  enter  at  that  time.  Mrs. 
Porter  then  took  the  gun,  and  went  up  stairs,  with 
the  hope  of  finding  an  opportunity  of  shooting  the 
savage  from  the  port-holes.  But  the  Indian  followed 
her  up  stairs.  He  had  no  sooner  reached  the  upper 
floor,  than  the  brave  woman  turned  and  shot  him  dead. 

Mrs.  Porter  now  believed  that  she  had  slaughtered 
all  her  foes.  Going  down  stairs  cautiously,  she  recon- 
(20) 


MRS.  PORTER.  21 

noitred  in  all  directions  around  the  house,  and  being 
satisfied  that  she  had  a  clear  field,  fled  swiftly  in  the 
path  by  which  she  knew  her  husband  would  return. 
She  soon  met  him,  and  telling  him  of  the  circumstances, 
mounted  the  horse,  and  rode  away  with  him  to  a 
neighboring  block-house.  The  next  morning,  a  party 
of  whites  was  collected,  and  marching  to  the  scene  of 
Mrs.  Porter's  heroism,  found  that  other  Indians  had 
been  there,  and  had  burned  the  house  and  barn,  partly 
from  revenge,  and  partly  to  conceal  the  evidence  of 
their  discomfiture  by  a  woman.  The  bones  of  the  slain 
savages  however,  were  found  among  the  ashes. 


MES.  CLENDENNIN. 

THE  very  sight  of  Indians  was  terrible  to  many 
women  on  the  frontier.  The  savages  could  not  be 
looked  upon  without  calling  to  mind  the  horrid  work 
of  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife — the  desolated 
home  and  the  butchered  relatives.  To  rise  superior 
to  this  feeling  of  dread  was  the  merit  of  a  large  num 
ber  of  bold-spirited  daughters  of  tho  wilderness.  But 
we  question  whether  any  other  woman  than  Mra. 
Clendennin  would  have  the  courage,  amid  scenes  of 
blood,  to  denounce  the  savages,  from  chief  to  squaw, 
as  cowardly  and  treacherous. 

During  the  year  1763,  a  party  of  about  fifty  Sha- 
wanese,  under  the  command  of  the  able  chief  Corn 
stalk,  made  a  descent  upon  the  Greenbriar  settlements, 
of  Western  Virginia.  They  professed  to  entertain 
friendly  intentions,  and  as  no  hostilities  had  occurred 
for  some  time  in  that  region,  the  inhabitants  were 
lulled  into  the  belief  that  there  was  no  danger.  The 
Indians  met  with  every  demonstration  of  a  welcome 
(22) 


MBS.  CLENDENNIN.  23 

and  abundant  hospitality.  Suddenly  they  fell  upon 
the  people  at  Muddy  Creek,  butchered  the  men,  and 
made  captives  of  the  women  and  children. 

A  visit  was  next  made  to  the  settlement  of  Big 
Levels,  where  Archibald  Clendennin  had  erected  a 
rude  block-house,  and  where  were  gathered  a  consi 
derable  number  of  families.  Foolishly  unsuspicious, 
the  whites  entertained  the  savages  as  friends.  Mr. 
Clendennin,  a  man  distinguished  for  his  generosity  and 
hospitality,  had  just  brought  in  three  fine  elk,  upon 
which  the  treacherous  Indians  feasted.  One  of  the 
inmates  of  the  house  was  a  decrepit  old  woman,  with 
an  ulcerated  limb.  She  undressed  the  member,  and 
asked  an  Indian  if  he  could  cure  it.  "Yes,"  he  re 
plied,  and  immediately  sunk  his  tomahawk  into  her 
head.  This  was  the  signal  for  massacre,  and  in  a 
few  minutes,  every  man  in  the  house  was  put  to  death. 
The  cries  of  the  women  and  children  alarmed  a  man 
in  the  yard,  who  escaped,  and  reported  the  circum 
stances  to  the  settlement  at  Jackson's  river.  The 
people  would  scarcely  believe  him ;  but  the  Indians 
soon  appeared,  and  massacred  the  families  that 
attempted  to  escape. 

Flushed  with  triumph  and  almost  sated  with  blood, 
the  Indians  now  marched  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
Ohio.  Mrs.  Clendennin  was  not  intimidated  by  the 
scenes  of  horror  through  which  she  had  passed.  She 
had  seen  her  husband  and  friends  treacherously 
butchered ;  but,  though  a  woman  of  keen  sensibility, 


24  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

her  spirit  was  firm.  Indignant  at  the  treachery 
and  cruelty  of  the  Indians,  she  loudly  abused  them, 
and  taunted  them  with  lacking  the  hearts  of  great 
warriors,  who  met  their  foes  in  fair  and  open  con 
flict.  The  savages  were  astounded.  They  tried 
to  frighten  her  by  flapping  the  bloody  scalp  of  her 
husband  in  her  face,  and  twirling  their  tomahawks 
above  her  head  in  a  threatening  manner.  Mrs. 
Clendennin  was  undaunted,  and  continued  to  ex 
press  her  indignation  and  detestation.  Probably 
the  savages  admired  her  courage ;  for  they  did  not 
attempt  to  inflict  any  serious  injury  upon  her. 

On  the  day  after  her  capture,  Mrs.  Clendennin, 
while  marching  among  the  other  hapless  prisoners, 
and  carrying  her  child,  saw  an  opportunity,  which 
she  instantly  resolved  to  seize.  Giving  her  child 
to  a  woman,  who  promised  to  take  charge  of  it, 
the  heroic  mother  slipped  unobserved  into  a  dense 
thicket.  After  the  march  had  been  continued  a 
short  distance,  the  child  began  to  cry.  An  Indian 
inquired  concerning  the  mother,  but  obtained  no 
satisfactory  reply.  He  then  swore  he  would 
"  bring  the  cow  to  the  calf,"  and,  taking  it  by  the 
heels,  dashed  out  its  brains  against  a  tree. 

Mrs.  Clendennin  succeeded  in  reaching  her  deso 
late  home.  No  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen  there.  The 
mangled  bodies  of  her  husband  and  friends  were 
strewn  around  :  all  she  could  do  was  to  give  them 
decent  interment,  which  she  accomplished  with  the 


MRS.  CLENDENNIN.  25 

lid  of  people  from  neighboring  settlements.  Through 
out  the  trying  scenes  of  the  massacre  and  the  cap 
tivity,  Mrs.  Clendennhi  acted  with  extraordinary  firm 
ness  of  spirit,  and  proved  herself  worthy  to  be  ranked 
with  the  noblest  women  of  history. 


THE  WIFE  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF 
DANIEL  BOONE. 

THE  daring  courage  of  Daniel  Boone,  the  father  of 
Kentucky,  has  frequently  been  eulogized.  It  was  cer 
tainly  a  great  display  of  hardihood  for  him  to  venture 
alone  in  the  forests  of  "  the  dark  and  bloody  ground," 
where  he  was  surrounded  by  swarms  of  vigilant  sa 
vages.  It  seemed  like  running  into  the  very  jaws  of 
death.  The  manner  in  which  he  surmounted  all  perils 
and  hardships  is  also  worthy  of  admiration.  As  bold 
as  he  was,  no  man  was  possessed  of  more  caution  and 
prudence,  and  had  Kentucky  pioneers  always  sub 
mitted  to  his  judicious  counsel,  many  terrible  disasters 
might  have  been  avoided.  But  whatever  praise  we 
concede  to  Boone,  we  must  remember  that  his  wife 
and  daughters  also  deserve  our  eulogy.  He  was  a 
bold  and  skilful  Indian  fighter,  and  accustomed  to 
scenes  of  danger  and  death.  They  belonged  to  what 
is  commonly  called  a  "  weaker  sex,"  were  unaccus 
tomed  to  the  wilderness,  and  to  the  constant  alarms 
of  savage  warfare ;  yet  they  ventured  to  accompany 
(26) 


WIFE  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.    27 

the  pioneer  far  into  the  forest,  hundred  of  miles  from 
the  settlements,  with  protectors  insignificantly  weak 
in  comparison  with  the  vast  numbers  of  savages  who 
were  known  to  visit  the  hunting-grounds  of  Kentucky. 
By  the  journey  alone,  they  proved  themselves  to 
possess  unusual  hardihood. 

After  his  first  long  hunting  expedition  in  Kentucky, 
Daniel  Boone  returned  to  North  Carolina  with  the 
determination  to  sell  his  farm,  and  remove,  with  his 
family,  to  the  wilderness. 

Accordingly,  on  the  25th  of  September,  1771,  hav 
ing  disposed  of  all  the  property  which  he  could  not 
take  with  him,  he  took  leave  of  his  friends,  and  com 
menced  his  journey  to  the  west.  A  number  of  milch 
cows,  and  horses,  laden  with  a  few  necessary  utensils, 
formed  the  whole  of  his  baggage.  His  wife  and  children 
were  mounted  on  horseback  and  accompanied  him, 
every  one  regarding  them  as  devoted  to  destruction. 
In  Powell's  valley  they  were  joined  by  five  more  fa 
milies  and  forty  men  well  armed.  Encouraged  by  this 
accession  of  strength,  they  advanced  with  additional 
confidence,  but  had  soon  a  severe  warning  of  the  future 
dangers  which  awaited  them.  When  near  Cumberland 
mountain,  their  rear  was  suddenly  attacked  with  great 
fury  by  a  scouting  party  of  Indians,  and  thrown  into 
considerable  confusion. 

The  party,  however,  soon  rallied,  and  being  accus 
tomed  to  Indian  warfare,  returned  the  fire  with  such 
spirit  and  effect,  that  the  Indians  were  repulsed  with 


28  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

slaughter.  Their  own  loss,  however,  had  been  severe, 
Six  men  were  killed  on  the  spot,  and  one  wounded. 
Among  the  killed  was  Boone's  eldest  son,  to  the  un 
speakahle  affliction  of  his  family.  The  disorder  and 
grief  occasioned  by  this  rough  reception,  seems  to  have 
affected  the  emigrants  deeply,  as  they  instantly  re 
traced  their  steps  to  settlements  on  Clinch  river,  forty 
miles  from  the  scene  of  action.  Here  they  remained 
until  June,  1774,  probably  at  the  request  of  the  women, 
who  must  have  been  greatly  alarmed  at  the  prospect 
of  plunging  more  deeply  into  a  country,  upon  the 
the  skirts  of  which,  they  had  witnessed  so  keen  and 
bloody  a  conflict. 

At  this  time,  Boone,  at  the  request  of  Governor 
Dunmore,  of  Virginia,  conducted  a  number  of  sur 
veyors  to  the  falls  of  Ohio,  a  distance  of  eight  hundred 
miles.  After  his  return,  he  was  engaged  under  Dun- 
more  until  1775  in  several  affairs  with  the  Indians, 
and  at  the  solicitation  of  some  gentlemen  of  North 
Carolina,  he  attended  at  a  treaty  with  the  Cherokees, 
for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  the  lands  south  of 
Kentucky. 

Boone's  next  visit  to  Kentucky  was  made  under 
the  auspices  of  Colonel  Henderson.  Leaving  his  fa 
mily  on  Clinch  river,  he  set  out  at  the  head  of  a  few 
men,  to  mark  out  a  road  for  the  pack  horses  or  wagons 
of  Henderson's  party.  This  laborious  and  dangerous 
duty  he  executed  with  his  usual  patient  fortitude,  unti] 
he  came  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  spot  where  Boones- 


WIFE  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.    29 

borough  now  stands.  Here,  on  the  22nd  of  March, 
his  small  party  was  attacked  hy  the  Indians,  and  suf 
fere'd  a  loss  of  four  men  killed  and  wounded.  The  In 
dians,  although  repulsed  with  loss  in  this  affair,  re 
newed  the  attack  with  equal  fury  on  the  next  day, 
and  killed  and  wounded  five  more  of  the  party.  On 
the  1st  of  April,  the  survivors  began  to  build  a  small 
fort  on  the  Kentucky  river,  afterwards  called  Boones- 
borough,  and  on  the  4th,  they  were  again  attacked  by 
the  Indians,  and  lost  another  man.  Notwithstanding 
the  harassing  attacks  to  which  they  were  constantly 
exposed,  for  the  Indians  seemed  enraged  to  madness 
at  the  prospect  of  their  building  houses  on  their  hunt 
ing-ground,  the  work  was  prosecuted  with  indefati 
gable  diligence,  and  on  the  14th  was  completed. 

Boone  now  returned  to  Clinch  river  for  his  family, 
determined  to  bring  them  with  him  at  every  risk.  This 
was  done  as  soon  as  the  journey  could  be  performed, 
and  Mrs.  Boone  and  her  daughters  were  the  first 
white  women  who  stood  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ken 
tucky  river,  as  Boone  himself  had  been  the  first  white 
man  who  ever  built  a  cabin  upon  the  borders  of  the 
state.  The  first  house,  however,  which  ever  stood  in 
the  interior  of  Kentucky,  was  erected  at  Harrodsburgh, 
in  the  year  1774,  by  James  Harrod,  who  conducted  to 
this  place  a  party  of  hunters  from  the  banks  of  the 
Monongahela.  This  place  was,  therefore,  a  few  months 
older  than  Boonesborough.  Both  soon  became  distin 
guished,  as  the  only  places  in  which  hunters  and 


30  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

surveyors  could  find  security  from  the  fury  of  th« 
Indians. 

Within  a  few  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Boone 
and  her  daughters,  the  infant  colony  was  reinforced 
by  three  more  families,  at  the  head  of  which  were  Mrs. 
McGrary,  Mrs.  Hogan,  and  Mrs.  Denton.  Boonesbo- 
rough,  however,  was  the  central  object  of  Indian  hos 
tilities,  and  scarcely  had  his  family  become  domesti 
cated  in  their  new  possession,  when  they  were  suddenly 
attacked  by  a  party  of  Indians,  and  lost  one  of  their 
garrison.  This  was  on  the  24th  of  December,  1775. 

In  the  following  July,  however,  a  much  more 
alarming  incident  occurred.  One  of  the  daughters,  in 
company  with  a  Miss  Galloway,  were  amusing  them 
selves  in  a  boat  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
fort,  when  a  party  of  Indians,  suddenly  rushed  out  of 
of  a  canebrake,  and,  intercepting  their  return,  took 
them  prisoners.* 

The  shouts  of  the  girls  quickly  alarmed  the  family. 
The  small  garrison  was  dispersed,  being  engaged  in 
their  usual  occupations ;  but  Boone  hastily  collected 
eight  men  and  pursued  the  enemy.  The  Indians  had  the 
advantage  of  a  start  of  several  miles.  The  pursuit, 
however,  was  urged  through  the  night  by  the  anxious 
father,  and  on  the  following  day,  he  had  the  satisfac 
tion  of  coming  up  with  the  Indians.  The  girls  were 
almost  overcome  with  fatigue ;  and  they  expected  tc 
be  tomahawked  every  moment;  but  they  refrained 

*McClung's  Western  Adventure. 


WIFE  AND  DAUGHTEBS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.         31 

from  murmuring,  and,  by  seeming  to  accompany  their 
captors  with  a  hearty  will,  were  saved  from  the  toma 
hawk.  Boone's  attack  was  sudden  and  furious,  so 
that  the  Indians  were  driven  from  their  ground  before 
they  had  an  opportunity  to  kill  their  captives,  who 
were  recovered  by  the  victorious  party.  The  Indians 
lost  two  men,  while  Boone's  party  was  entirely  unin 
jured.  The  happy  father  then  returned  to  Boones- 
borough  with  the  girls  whom  he  had  saved  from  a  long 
and  dreary  captivity,  if  not  from  death. 

From  this  time  until  long  after  the  bloody  defeat 
of  the  whites  at  the  Blue  Licks,  Boonesborough  was 
constantly  exposed  to  the  harassing  attacks  of  the 
Indians.  The  men  of  the  garrison  could  not  venture 
far  from  the  fort,  for  savages  were  lurking  around, 
watching  opportunities  to  pick  off  stragglers.  Mrs. 
Boone,  her  daughters,  and  the  other  females  in  the 
fort,  were  in  a  constant  state  of  alarm ;  and  it  was 
truly  wonderful  that  they  persuaded  themselves  to  re 
main  amid  such  perils.  They  survived  all  the  dangers 
they  had  so  nobly  braved,  and  lived  to  see  Kentucky, 
the  prosperous  home  of  civilization,  where  their  names 
will  ever  be  remembered  with  gratitude  and  pride. 


THE  WAK-WOMAN  CEBEK. 

In  Georgia  and  North  Carolina  there  is  hardly  a 
river,  creek,  or  stream,  that  has  not  connected  with 
it  some  old  Indian  tradition.  The  title  of  the  present 
sketch  is  taken  from  one  of  these — I  believe  one  of 
the  principal  tributaries  of  Natahalee  river,  in  the 
Cherokee  nation,  North  Carolina.  The  story,  as  told 
by  the  few  Indians  remaining  since  the  removal  in  the 
fall  of  1838,  runs  thus : 

Many  years  ago,  in  the  first  settlement  of  the 
country,  a  wandering  party  of  their  tribe  attacked  the 
house  of  a  squatter,  somewhere  upon  their  borders, 
during  his  absence,  and  massacred  all  his  children, 
and  left  his  wife  covered  with  the  mangled  bodies  of 
her  butchered  offspring ;  scalped  like  them  and  ap 
parently  dead.  She  was  not,  however,  wounded  so 
badly  as  they  had  supposed,  and  no  sooner  did  she 
hear  the  sound  of  their  retreating  footsteps,  than  dis 
engaging  herself  from  the  heap  of  slain,  haggard,  pale, 
and  drenched  with  her  own  and  the  blood  of  her  chil- 
ren,  she  peered  steadily  from  the  door,  and  finding 
(32) 


THE  WAR-WOMAN  CREEK.  33 

her  enemies  no  longer  in  sight,  hastily  extinguished 
the  fire,  which  before  leaving  they  had  applied  to  her 
sabin,  but  which  had,  as  yet,  made  very  little  impres 
sion  on  the  green  logs  of  which  it  was  composed. 

Wiping  from  her  eyes  the  warm  blood,  still  reeking 
from  her  scalpless  head,  she  directed  her  agonized 
gaze  to  the  bleeding  and  disfigured  forms  of  those  who 
scarce  an  hour  before  were  playing  at  the  door,  and 
gladdening  her  maternal  heart  with  their  merry  laugh 
ter,  and  as  she  felt,  in  the  full  sense  of  her  desolation, 
the  last  ray  of  hope  die  within  her  bosom,  there  stole 
over  her  ghostly  face  an  expression  as  savage  as  was 
ever  worn  by  the  ruthless  slayers  of  her  innocent 
babes.  Her  eye  gleamed  with  the  wild  fury  of  the 
tigress  robbed  of  i*  young,  as  closing  her  cabin  care 
fully  behind  her,  witn  a  countenance  animated  by  some 
desperate  purpose,  she  started  off  in  the  same  path  by 
which  the  murderers  had  departed.  Heedless  of  her 
wounds  and  wasting  blood,  and  lost  to  all  sense  of 
hunger  and  fatigue  in  the  one  absorbing  and  fell  pur 
pose  which  actuated  her,  she  paused  not  upon  the  trail 
of  her  foes,  until  at  night,  she  came  up  with  them  en 
camped  at  the  side  of  the  creek,  which  is  indebted  to 
her  for  its  present  name. 

Emerging  from  the  gloom  of  the  surrounding  dark 
ness,  on  her  hands  and  knees  she  noiselessly  crept  to 
wards  the  fire,  the  blaze  of  which,  as  it  flickered  up 
wards,  discovered  to  her  the  prostrate^  forms  of  the 
Indians,  wno  overcome  by  an  unusually  fatiguing 
3  ' 


34  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

day's  travel,  were  wrapt  in  deep  sleep,  with  their  only 
weapons,  their  tomahawks,  in  their  belts.  Her  steak 
thily  advancing  figure,  as  the  uncertain  light  of  the 
burning  pine  fell  upon  it  with  more  or  less  distinctness 
—now  exposing  its  lineaments  clotted  with  blood,  and 
distorted  by  an  expression,  which  her  wrongs,  and  the 
desolaters  of  her  hearthstone,  exaggerated  to  a  degree 
almost  fiendish  ;  and  now  shading  all,  save  two  gleam 
ing,  spectral  eyes — was  even  more  striking  than  the 
swarthy  faces  which  she  glared  upon. 

Assuring  herself  that  they  were  fast  asleep  she 
gently  removed  their  tomahawks,  and  dropped  all  but 
one  in  the  creek.  With  this  remaining  weapon  in  her 
hand,  and  cool  resolution  in  her  heart,  she  bent  over 
the  nearest  enemy,  and  lifting  the  instrument,  to  which 
her  own  and  her  children's  blood  still  adhered,  with 
one  terrific  and  unerring  blow,  buried  it  into  the  tem 
ple  of  its  owner.  The  savage  moved  no  more  than 
partly  to  turn  upon  his  side,  gasped  a  little,  quivered  a 
minute  like  an  aspen,  and  sunk  back  to  his  former  po 
sition,  quite  dead.  Smiling  ghastly  in  his  rigid  face, 
the  desperate  woman  left  him,  and  noiselessly  as  before 
despatched  all  the  sleepers,  but  one,  to  that  long  rest 
from  which  only  the  last  trump  can  awaken  them. 

The  last  devoted  victim,  however  was  roused  to  a 
consciousness  of  his  situation  by  the  death  struggles, 
of  his  companions.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  felt  for 
his  weapon.  It  was  not  there,  and  one  glance  explain 
ing  every  thing  to  him,  he  evaded  the  blow  aimed  at 


THE  WAR-WOMAN  CREEK.  35 

him  by  the  brave  and  revengeful  mother,  seized  from 
the  fire  a  burning  brand,  and  with  it,  succeeded  par 
tially  in  warding  off  the  furious  attack  which  followed 
In  a  little  time  they  fell  struggling  together,  the  In 
dian  desperately  wounded,  and  the  unfortunate  woman 
faint  with  the  loss  of  blood  and  her  extraordinary  ex 
ertions.  Both  were  too  weak  to  harm  each  other  now, 
and  the  wounded  savage  only  availed  himself  of  hia 
remaining  strength  to  crawl  away.  In  this  piteous 
plight,  the  poor  woman  remained  until  near  noon  on 
the  folio  wing  day,  when  she  was  accidentally  discovered 
by  a  straggling  party  of  whites,  to  whom  she  told 
her  story,  and  then  died.  After  burying  her  on 
the  spot,  they  made  some  exertions  to  overtake  the 
fugitive  Indian,  but  unsuccessfully.  He  succeeded  in 
reaching  his  tribe,  and  from  his  tale  the  little  stream, 
before  mentioned,  was  ever  afterwards  known  among 
the  Cherokees,  and  also  by  the  pale  faces,  as  the 
"  War- Woman  Creek." 

The  instance  of  intrepidity  in  a  woman,  recorded 
in  the  above  sketch,  furnishes  a  remarkable  proof 
that  the  heroism  of  woman,  to  whatever  excesses  of 
daring  and  even  ferocious  courage  it  may  lead  her, 
has  its  foundation  in  love.  It  was  this  "War- Wo 
man's"  love  for  her  children,  that  made  her  exhaust 
the  last  energy  of  a  life,  which  had  lost  its  motive  and 
its  charm,  in  taking  vengeance  on  their  murderers. 
Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
the  extent  to  which  a  woman's  outraged  affections 


36  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

will  not  carry  her.  Here  we  see  one  of  the  gentle 
and  devoted  sex,  losing  all  sense  of  danger,  all  feeling 
of  compassion,  all  regard  to  her  own  personal  safety, 
and  her  ultimate  fate,  in  the  desire  to  avenge  the 
cruel  murder  of  her  children.  The  fact  seems  startling 
and  almost  incredible ;  but  it  is  corroborated  by  many 
other  facts  illustrating  the  same  principle. 


ELIZABETH  ZANE. 

* 

DURING  the  hottest  part  of  the  revolutionary  war, 
Fort  Henry,  situated  near  the  site  of  the  present  city 
of  Wheeling,  was  the  stronghold  of  northwestern  Vir 
ginia.  It  was  a  simple  stockade  fort,  and  its  garrison 
was  exceedingly  small.  Yet  it  was  twice  defended 
against  the  furious  assaults  of  large  Indian  armies, 
headed  hy  bold  and  skilful  white  men.  The  incidents 
we  are  about  to  relate  occurred  during  the  second 
siege  of  Fort  Henry. 

On  the  night  of  the  26th  of  November,  1782,  Cap 
tain  Joseph  Ogle,  with  a  small  scouting  party,  while 
on  his  return  to  the  fort  from  an  excursion  up  the 
Ohio,  descried  a  faint  but  constant  body  of  smoke 
rising  in  the  air  to  the  southward  of  Wheeling.  Im 
pressed  with  the  conviction  that  the  smoke  was  caused 
by  the  burning  of  the  block-house  at  Grave  Creek, 
about  twelve  miles  below,  he  hastened  to  the  fort  and 
mentioned  the  circumstance  to  Colonel  Shepherd,  the 
commandant,  who  lost  no  time  in  dispatching  twc 
men,  in  a  canoe,  down  the  river  to  ascertain  the  truth 

(37) 


38  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
village  fled  to  the  fort  for  shelter  and  safety,  and  se 
veral  families  residing  in  the  neighborhood  were  sent 
for  and  brought  in  before*  the  dawn  of  day. 

The  garrison  numbered  only  forty-two  fighting  men. 
Some  of  these  were  far  advanced  in  years,  while  others 
were  mere  boys.  A  portion  of  them  were  skilled  in 
Indian  warfare,  and  all  were  excellent  marksmen.  The 
store-house  was  well  supplied  with  small-arms,  particu 
larly  muskets,  but  was  sadly  deficient  in  ammunition. 

At  the  break  of  day  on  the  27th,  the  commandant 
wishing  to  dispatch  expresses  to  the  nearest  settle- 
'inents,  sent  a  man,  accompanied  by  a  negro,  out  of 
the  fort  to  bring  in  some  horses,  which  had  been 
turned  loose  the  day  before  to  graze  on  the  bank  of 
the  creek.  While  these  men  were  passing  through 
the  cornfield  south  of  the  fort,  they  encountered  a, 
party  of  six  Indians,  one  of  whom  raised  his  firelock 
and  brought  the  white  man  to  the  ground.  The  negro, 
seized  with  alarm,  turned  about  and  fled  to  the  fort, 
which  he  succeeded  in  entering  without  being  pursued 
or  molested  by  the  enemy.  As  soon  as  the  negro  re 
lated  his  story,  the  colonel  dispatched  Captain  Samuel 
Mason,  with  fourteen  men,  to  dislodge  the  Indiana 
from  the  cornfield.  Captain  Mason  with  his  party 
marched  through  the  field,  and  arrived  almost  on  the 
bank  of  the  creek  without  finding  the  Indians,  and 
had  already  commenced  a  retrograde  movement  when 
he  was  suddenly  and  furiously  assailed  in  front,  flank. 


ELIZABETH  ZANE.  89 

and  rear,  by  the  whole  of  Girty's  army.  The  captain 
rallied  his  men  from  the  confusion  produced  by  this 
unexpected  demonstration  of  the  enemy,  and  instantly 
comprehending  the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed, 
gallantly  took  the  lead  and  hewed  a  passage  through 
the  savage  phalanx  that  opposed  him.  In  this  despe 
rate  conflict  more  than  half  the  little  band  was  slain, 
and  their  leader  severely  wounded.  Intent  on  retreat 
ing  back  to  the  fort,  Mason  pressed  rapidly  on  with  the 
remnant  of  his  command,  the  Indians  following  closely 
in  pursuit.  One  by  one  these  devoted  soldiers  fell  at 
the  crack  of  the  enemy's  rifle.  An  Indian,  who  eagerly 
pursued  Captain  Mason,  at  length  overtook  him ;  and 
to  make  sure  of  his  prey,  fired  at  him  from  the  dis 
tance  of  five  paces  ;  but  the  shot,  although  it  took 
effect,  did  not  disable  the  captain,  who  immediately 
turned  about,  and  hurling  his  gun  at  the  head  of  his 
pursuer,  felled  him  to  the  earth.  The  fearlessness 
with  which  this  act  was  performed  caused  an  involun 
tary  dispersion  of  the  gang  of  Indians  who  led  the 
pursuit :  and  Mason,  whose  extreme  exhaustion  of 
physical  powers  prevented  him  from  reaching  the  fort, 
was  fortunate  enough  to  hide  himself  in  a  pile  of  fallen 
timber,  where  he  was  compelled  to  remain  to  the  end 
of  the  siege.  Only  two  of  his  men  survived  the  skir- 
mish,  and  they,  like  their  leader,  owed  their  safety  to 
the  heaps  of  logs  and  brush,  that  abounded  in  the 
cornfield. 

As  soon  as  the  critical  situation  of  Captain  Mason 


40  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

became  known  at  the  fort,  Captain  Ogle,  with  twelve 
rolunteers  from  the  garrison,  sallied  forth  to  cover  hirt 
retreat.  This  noble,  self-devoted  band,  in  their  eager 
ness  to  press  -forward  to  the  relief  of  their  suffering 
fellow-soldiers,  fell  into  an  ambuscade,  and  two-thirds 
of  their  number  were  slain  upon  the  spot.  Sergeant 
Jacob  Ogle,  though  mortally  wounded,  managed  to 
escape  with  two  soldiers  into  the  woods,  while  Captain 
Ogle  escaped  in  another  direction,  and  found  a  place  of 
concealment,  which,  like  his  brother,  Captain  Mason, 
he  was  obliged  to  keep  as  long  as  the  siege,  continued. 
Immediately  after  the  departure  of  Captain  Ogle's 
command,  three  new  volunteers  left  the  garrison  to 
overtake  and  reinforce  him.  These  men,  however, 
did  not  reach  the  cornfield  until  after  the  bloody 
scenes  had  been  enacted,  and  barely  found  time  to  re 
turn  to  the  fort  before  the  Indian  host  appeared  before 
it.  The  enemy  advanced  in  two  ranks,  in  open  order—- 
their  left  flank  reaching  to  the  river  bank,  and  their 
right  extending  into  the  woods  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
Teach.  As  the  three  volunteers  were  about  to  enter 
the  gate,  a  few  random  shots  were  fired  at  them,  and 
instantly  a  loud  whoop  arose  on  the  enemy's  left  flank, 
which  passed,  as  if  by  concert,  along  the  line  to  the 
extreme  right,  until  the  welkin  was  filled  with  a  chorus 
of  the  most  wild  and  startling  character.  This  salute 
was  responded  to  by  a  few  well  directed  rifle  shots 
from  the  lower  block-houses,  which  produced  a  mani 
fest  confusion  in  the  ranks  of  the  besiegers.  They 


ELIZABETH  ZANE.  41 

discontinued  their  shouting  and  retired  a  few  paces^ 
probably  to  await  the  coming  up  of  their  right  flank, 
which,  it  would  seem,  had  been  directed  to  make  a 
general  sweep  of  the  bottom,  and  then  approach  the 
stockade  on  the  eastern  side. 

At  this  moment  the  garrison  of  Fort  Henry  num 
bered  no  more  than  twelve  men  and  boys.  The  for 
tunes  of  the  day,  so  far,  had  been  fearfully  against 
them ;  two  of  their  best  officers  and  more  than  two- 
thirds  of  their  original  force  were  missing.  The  exact 
fate  of  their  comrades  was  unknown  to  them,  but  they 
had  every  reason  to  apprehend  that  they  had  been  cut 
to  pieces.  Still  they  were  not  dismayed — their  mo^ 
thers,  sisters,  wives  and  children  were  assembled  around 
them — they  had  a  sacred  charge  to  protect,  and  they 
resolved  to  fight  to  the  last  extremity,  and  confidently 
trusted  in  Heaven  for  the  successful  issue  of  the 
combat. 

When  the  enemy's  right  flank  came  up,  Girty 
changed  his  order  of  attack.  Parties  of  Indians  were 
placed  in  such  of  the  houses  as  commanded  a  view  of 
the  block-houses ;  a  strong  body  occupied  the  yard  of 
Ebenezer  Zane,  about  fifty  yards  from  the  fort,  using 
a  paling  fence  as  a  cover,  while  the  greater  part  were 
posted  under  cover  in  the  edge  of  the  cornfield,  to  act 
offensively  or  serve  as  a  corps  of  reserve,  as  occasion 
might  require.  These  dispositions  having  been  made, 
with  a  white  flag  in  his  hand,  he  appeared  at  the  window 
of  a  cabin  and  demanded  the  surrender  of  the  garrison 


42  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

in  the  name  of  his  Britannic  majesty.  He  read  thr. 
proclamation  of  Governor  Hamilton,  and  promised 
them  protection  if  they  would  lay  down  their  arms  and 
swear  allegiance  to  the  British  crown.  He  warned 
them  to  submit  peaceably,  and  admitted  his  inability 
to  restrain  the  passions  of  his  warriors  when  they  once 
became  excited  with  the  strife  of  battle.  Colonel 
Shepherd  promptly  told  him,  in  reply,  that  the  garri 
son  would  never  surrender  to  him,  and  that  he  could 
only  obtain  possession  of  the  fort  when  there  remained 
no  longer  an  American  soldier  to  defend  it.  Girty 
renewed  his  proposition,  but  before  he  finished  his 
harangue  a  thoughtless  youth  in  one  of  the  block-houses 
fired  a  gun  at  the  speaker,  and  brought  the  conference 
to  an  abrupt  termination.  Girty  disappeared,  and  in 
about  fifteen  minutes  the  Indians  opened  the  siege  by 
a  general  discharge  of  rifles. 

It  was  yet  quite  early  in  the  morning,  the  sun  not 
having  appeared  above  the  summit  of  Wheeling  hill, 
and  the  day  is  represented  to  have  been  one  of  sur 
passing  beauty.  The  Indians  not  entirely  concealed 
from  the  view  of  the  garrison,  kept  up  a  brisk  fire  for 
the  space  of  six  hours  without  much  intermission.  The 
little  garrison,  in  spite  of  its  heterogeneous  character, 
was,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  composed  of  sharp 
shooters.  Several  of  them,  whose  experience  in  In 
dian  warfare  gave  them  a  remarkable  degree  of  coolness 
and  self-possession  in  the  face  of  danger,  infused  con 
fidence  into  the  young ;  and,  as  they  never  fired  at 


ELIZABETH  ZANE.  43 

random,  their  bullets,  in  most  cases,  took  effect.  The 
Indians,  on  the  contrary,  flushed  with  their  previous 
success,  their  tomahawks  reeking  with  the  blood  of 
Mason's  and  Ogle's  men,  and  all  of  them  burning  with 
impatience  to  rush  into  the  fort  and  complete  their 
work  of  butchery,  discharged  their  guns  against  the 
pickets,  the  gate,  the  logs  of  the  block-houses,  and 
every  other  object  that  seemed  to  shelter  a  white  man. 
Their  fire  was  thus  thrown  away.  At  length  some  of 
their  most  daring  warriors  rushed  up  close  to  the  block 
houses,  and  attempted  to  make  more  sure  work  by  firing 
through  the  logs ;  but  these  reckless  savages  received 
from  the  well-direeted  rifles  of  the  frontiersmen  the 
fearful  reward  of  their  temerity.  About  one  o'clock 
the  Indians  discontinued  their  fire  and  fell  back  against 
the  base  of  the  hill. 

The  stock  of  gunpowder  in  the  fort  having  been 
nearly  exhausted,  it  was  determined  to  seize  the  favo 
rable  opportunity  offered  by  the  suspension  of  hostili 
ties,  to  send  for  a  keg  of  powder  which  was  known  to 
be  in  the  house  of  Ebenezer  Zane,  about  sixty  yards 
from  the  gate  of  the  fort.  The  person  executing  this 
service  would  necessarily  expose  himself  to  the  danger 
of  being  shot  down  by  the  Indians,  who  were  yet  suf 
ficiently  near  to  observe  every  thing  that  transpired 
about  the  works.  The  colonel  explained  the  matter 
to  his  men,  and,  unwilling  to  order  one  of  them  to 
undertake  such  a  desperate  enterprise,  inquired 
whether  any  man  would  volunteer  for  the  service 


44  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Three  or  four  young  men  promptly  stepped  forward  in 
obedience  to  the  call.  The  colonel  informed  them  that 
the  weak  state  of  the  garrison  would  not  justify  the 
absence  of  more  than  one  man,  and  that  it  was  for 
themselves  to  decide  who  that  person  should  be.  The 
eagerness  felt  by  each  volunteer  to  undertake  the 
honorable  mission,  prevented  them  from  making  the 
arrangement  proposed  by  the  commandant;  and  so 
much  time  was  consumed  in  the  contention  between 
them  that  fears  began  to  arise  that  the  Indians  would 
renew  the  attack  before  the  powder  could  be  procured. 
At  this  moment  of  indescision,  a  woman  came  for 
ward  as  a  volunteer  upon  the  perilous,  but  necessary 
service.  Elizabeth  Zane,  the  sister  of  Ebenezer  and 
Silas  Zane,  a  young  woman  of  a  calm,  determined 
spirit  of  heroism,  desired  that  she  might  be  permitted 
to  go  for  the  ammunition.  The  proposition  seemed 
so  extravagant  that  it  was  met  with  a  peremptory  re 
fusal.  But  Elizabeth  pleaded  earnestly,  and  all  the 
remonstrances  and  representations  of  the  colonel  and 
and  her  relatives  were  of  no  avail.  Her  purpose  was 
not  to  be  shaken.  The  colonel  said  that  either  of  the 
young  men,  qn  account  of  his  superior  fleetness  and 
familiarity  with  scenes  of  danger,  would  be  more  likely 
than  herself  to  do  the  work  successfully.  She  replied 
that  the  danger  attending  the  errand  was  the  identical 
reason  that  induced  her  to  offer  her  services,  for  as 
the  garrison  was  very  weak,  no  soldier's  life  should  be 
placed  in  jeopardy  needlessly,  and  if  she  fell  her  losa 


ELIZABETH  ZANE.  45 

would  not  be  felt.  Heroic,  but  mistaken  woman ! 
The  world  sustains  its  heaviest  loss  when  such  spirits 
fall.  At  length,  the  petition  of  Miss  Zane  was  granted, 
her  relatives  preparing  to  see  her  sacrificed.  The  gate 
was  opened  for  her  to  pass  out.  The  opening  of  the 
gate  attracted  the  attention  of  some  straggling  In 
dians,  and  they  stopped  to  gaze  at  the  fearless  girl, 
as  she  advanced  towards  the  house  of  her  brother. 
Savages  as  they  were,  they  were  spell-bound  by  such 
a  display  of  daring  by  a  woman.  They  permitted  her 
to  enter  the  house,  where  she  filled  her  apron  with 
powder.  When  she  reappeared,  the  Indians,  suspect 
ing  the  character  of  her  burden,  and  losing  their  ad 
miration  in  the  desire  to  cut  off  supplies  from  the  gar 
rison,  they  fired  a  volley  at  her  as  she  swiftly  glided 
towards  the  gate ;  but  the  balls  all  flew  wide  of  the 
mark,  and  the  fearless  girl  entered  the  fort,  amid  the 
shouts  of  her  friends  and  relatives.  Such  an  effort  of 
courage,  and  exhibition  of  generous  devotion  was 
worthy  of  any  heroine  of  history.  Though  Elizabeth 
Zane  had  no  queen's  title,  she  was  one  of  the  queens 
by  divine  right,  to  whom  all  may  do  homage.  The 
highest  effort  of  heroism  is  the  offer  of  one's  life  to  save 
others,  and  in  this  kind  of  nobility,  Miss  Zane  was 
prominent. 

Ammunition  being  secured,  the  spirit  of  the  garri 
son  revived ;  and  reinforcements  arriving  soon  after, 
the  assailants  were  completely  baffled,  and  compelled 
to  a  retreat,  which  they  performed  with  precipitation. 


46  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Fort  Henry  and  the  frontiers  were  saved.  All  honor 
to  the  gallant  garrison.  All  honor  to  the  wives  and 
daughters  there  collected ;  and,  above  all,  a  fadeless 
laurel  to  Elizabeth  Zane. 


MBS.  CUNNINGHAM. 

MRS.  CUNNINGHAM  deserves  a  share  of  the  praise 
awarded  to  Mrs.  Clendennin  for  firmness  amid  scenes 
of  blood  and  death.  The  incidents  of  her  capture, 
captivity,  and  release,  possess  a  strong  interest,  and 
show  the  noble  character  of  the  heroine. 

The  house  of  Edward  Cunningham,  an  enterprising 
settler,  was  situated  on  Bingamon,  a  branch  of  West 
Fork.  Thomas  Cunningham,  a  brother  of  Edward, 
lived  in  a  house  almost  adjoining.  The  two  families 
thus  afforded  some  protection  to  each  other.  In  the 
latter  part  of  June,  1785,  a  small  party  of  Indians 
approached  the  houses  of  the  settlers,  with  designs  of 
plunder  and  massacre.  At  that  time,  Edward  and 
his  family  were  in  one  cabin,  and  the  wife  of  Thomas, 
with  four  children,  were  in  the  other.  Thomas  Cun 
ningham  had  gone  east  on  a  trading  expedition.  Both 
families  were  eating  their  dinners,  when  a  huge  sa 
vage  entered  the  house  of  Thomas  Cunningham,  and 
stood  before  the  astonished  mother  and  her  children, 
with  drawn  knife,  and  uplifted  tomahawk.  Edward 

(47) 


48  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Cunningham  had  seen  the  entrance  of  the  Indian 
through  a  hole  in  the  wall  of  his  house,  and  he  now 
eagerly  watched  the  movements  of  the  savage.  A 
similar  hole  being  in  the  wall  of  Thomas  Cunningham's 
house,  the  Indian  fired  through  it  and  shouted  for  vic 
tory.  He  then  commenced  cutting  an  opening  in  the 
back  wall,  with  an  adze,  so  that  he  might  pass  out 
•without  being  exposed  to  a  shot  from  the  other  house. 
Edward  shot  another  Indian  who  appeared  in  the 
yard,  just  after  the  savage  in  the  house  had  fired 
his  gun. 

In  the  meantime,  Mrs.  Cunningham  made  no  at 
tempt  to  get  out,  though  she  retained  her  presence  of 
mind.  She  knew  that  an  effort  to  escape  would  meet 
with  certain  death  from  those  who  were  watching  out 
side  of  the  house. 

She  knew,  too,  it  would  be  impossible  to  take  the 
children  with  her.  She  expected  that  the  Indian 
inside  would  withdraw  without  molesting  any  of  them. 
A  few  minutes  served  to  convince  her  of  the  hopeless 
folly  of  trusting  to  an  Indian's  mercy.  When  the 
opening  had  been  made  sufficiently  large,  the  savage 
raised  his  tomahawk,  sunk  it  deep  into  the  brains  of 
one  of  the  children,  and  throwing  the  scarcely  lifeless 
body  into  the  back  yard,  ordered  the  mother  to  follow 
him.  There  was  no  alternative  but  death,  and  she 
obeyed  his  order,  stepping  over  the  dead  body  of  one 
of  her  children,  with  an  infant  in  her  arms,  and  two 
screaming  by  her  side.  When  all  were  out  he  scalped 


MRS.  CUNNINGHAM.  49 

the  murdered  boy,  and  setting  fire  to  the  house  retired 
to  an  eminence,  where  two  of  the  savages  were  with 
their  wounded  companion, — -leaving  the  other  two  to 
watch  the  opening  of  Edward  Cunningham's  door, 
when  the  burning  of  the  house  should  force  the  family 
from  their  shelter.  They  were  disappointed  in  their 
expectation  of  that  event  by  the  exertions  of  Cunning 
ham  and  his  son.  When  the  flame  from  the  one  house 
communicated  to  the  roof  of  the  other,  they  ascended 
to  the  loft,  threw  off  the  loose  boards  which  covered  it, 
and  extinguishing  the  fire ; — the  savages  shooting  at 
them  all  the  while;  their  balls  frequently  striking 
close  by. 

Unable  to  force  out  the  family  of  Edward  Cunning 
ham,  and  despairing  of  doing  further  injury,  they  beat 
a  speedy  retreat.* 

Before  they  started,  however,  they  tomahawked 
and  scalped  the  eldest  son  of  Mrs.  Cunningham  before 
her  eyes.  Her  little  daughter  was  next  murdered  and 
scalped  in  the  same  way.  The  mother  was  horror- 
stricken,  but,  though  in  momentary  expectation  of 
meeting  a  similar  fate,  she  remained  self-possessed. 
Carrying  her  babe,  she  was  led  from  the  scene  of  blood 
shed.  The  savages  carried  their  wounded  companions 
upon  a  litter.  Crossing  a  ridge,  they  found  a  cave  near 
Bingamon  creek,  in  which  they  secreted  themselves 
until  after  night,  when  some  of  the  party  returned  tc 

*DeHaas. 


"SO  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST.- 

Edward  Cunningham's,  and  finding  that  the  inmates 
had  fled,  set  fire  to  the  house. 

The  whole  party  now  took  up  its  march  towards  the 
Indian  towns.  During  the  journey,  Mrs.  Cunningham 
suffered  mental  and  physical  pangs  not  to  be  described. 
While  weeping  for  her  murdered  children  she  was 
compelled  to  be  constantly  attentive  to  the  helpless 
babe  in  her  arms.  For  ten  days  her  only  nourishment 
was  the  head  of  a  wild  turkey  and  a  few  paw-paws. 

After  the  savages  had  withdrawn,  Edward  Cunning 
ham  went  with  his  family  into  the  woods,  where  they 
remained  all  night,  there  being  no  settlement  nearer 
than  ten  miles.  In  the  morning,  the  alarm  was  given, 
and  a  company  of  men  soon  collected  to  go  in  pursuit 
of  the  Indians.  When  the  company  arrived  at  Cun 
ningham's  and  found  both  houses  heaps  of  ashes,  they 
buried  the  remains  of  the  boy  who  was  murdered  in 
the  house,  with  the  bodies  of  his  brother  and  little 
sister,  who  were  killed  in  the  field ;  but  so  cautiously 
had  the  savages  conducted  their  retreat,  that  no  traces 
of  them  could  be  found,  and  the  disappointed  whites 
returned  to  their  homes.  Subsequently,  a  second 
party  started  in  pursuit,  and  succeeded  in  tracing  the 
Indians  to  the  cave ;  but  the  trail  could  be  followed 
no  further,  with  certainty,  and  the  pursuit  was  given 
up.  Mrs.  Cunningham  afterwards  stated,  that  at  the 
time  of  the  search  on  the  first  day,  the  Indians  were 
in  the  cave,  and  that  several  times  the  whites  ap- 
roached  so  near,  that  she  could  distinctly  hear  their 


MKS.  CUNNINGHAM.  51 

voices.  Savages  stood  with  their  guns  ready  to  fire, 
in  the  event  of  being  discovered,  and  forced  the  mother 
to  keep  her  infant  to  her  breast,  to  prevent  its  crying. 
Had  the  place  of  concealment  been  discovered,  it  is 
most  probable  that  Mrs.  Cunningham  and  her  child 
•would  have  been  tomahawked. 

Mrs.  Cunningham  spent  many  months  in  captivity, 
her  husband  being  ignorant  of  her  fate.  At  length, 
that  man  of  bad  repute  Simon  Girty,  interfered 
on  her  behalf,  paid  her  ransom,  and  sent  her  home. 
This  noble  act  was  an  atonement  for  many  deeds  of 
darkness,  and  shows  that  the  renegade  was  not  so 
destitute  of  generosity  as  he  is  commonly  represented 
to  have  been.  Mrs.  Cunningham's  claims  to  the  cha 
racter  of  a  heroine  are  undeniable.  Few  women  could 
have  passed  through  such  hardships  and  horrors,,  with 
guch  self-control  as  she  displayed. 


MES.  BLAND  MRS.  POLK. 

AFTER  the  famous  battle  of  Blue  Licks,  the  Indian 
army,  victorious  on  that  fatal  field,  determined  to  re 
turn  home  with  the  scalps.  A  portion  of  them,  how 
ever,  passing  through  Jefferson  county,  showed  a  hostile 
disposition,  and  were  pursued  by  Colonel  Flood,  with 
a  party  of  militiamen.  After  an  unsuccessful  pursuit, 
a  portion  of  this  force,  at  Kincheloe's  station,  sup 
posing  themselves  secure,  went  to  sleep  at  night, 
without  a  watch.  In  the  night,  the  enemy  fell  upon 
the  place  by  surprise ;  and  were  in  the  houses  before 
the  people  were  awake.  Thus  circumstanced,  they 
killed  several  persons,  men,  women,  and  children,  and 
were  proceeding  to  destroy  or  capture  the  rest,  but 
the  darkness  of  night  favored  the*  escape  of  a  few. 

Among  them  was  Mrs.  Davis,  whose  husband  was 
killed — and  another  woman,  who  fled  to  the  woods — 
where  they  were  fortunately  joined  by  a  lad,  by  the 
name  of  Ash,  who  conducted  them  to  Coxe's  station. 

William  Harrison,  after  placing  his  wife  and  a  young 
woman,  of  the  family,  under  the  floor  of  the  cabin, 
(52) 


MRS.  BL4.ND  AND  MRS.  POLK.  53 

escaped ;  as  they  did,  after  the  Indians  had  retired ; 
and  he  returned  to  liberate  them.  Thompson  Ran 
dolph  stood  his  ground  manfully  for  awhile,  and  de 
fended  his  wife  and  children  like  a  hero.  He  killed 
several  Indians — soon,  however,  his  wife,  and  an  in 
fant  in  her  arms,  were  hoth  murdered  by  his  side — 
his  remaining  child,  he  put  into  the  cabin  loft,  then 
mounted  himself,  and  escaped  with  it  through  the 
roof.  When  he  alighted  on  the  ground,  he  was  as 
sailed  by  two  of  the  savages,  whom  he  had  just  forced 
out  of  the  house — one  of  these  he  stabbed,  the  other 
he  struck  with  his  empty  gun — they  both  left  him, 
and  he,  dragging  the  child  after  him,  secured  his  re 
treat  and  the  safety  of  both.  This  representation  of 
facts,  obtained  full  credit  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
with  his  acquaintances.  A  signal  instance  of  manly 
perseverance. 

Several  women  and  children  were  cruelly  put  to 
death,  after  they  were  made  prisoners,  and  on  the 
route  to  the  towns.  But  the  details  of  such  savage 
barbarity  are  omitted,  in  order  to  attend  the  case  of 
Mrs.  Bland,  who  was  not  killed,  probably  because  she 
was  not  a  prisoner,  after  the  second  day — when  she 
escaped  into  the  bushes — totally  unacquainted  with 
the  country  around  her,  and  destitute  of  any  guide. 

For  eighteen  successive  days  she  rambled  through 
the  woods,  without  seeing  a  human  face ;  subsisting 
upon  sour  grapes,  and  green  walnuts ;  until  she  be 
came  a  mere  walking  skeleton,  without  clothes ;  when 


54  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

she  was  accidentally  found,  and  taken  to  Lynn's  sta 
tion.  Where  kind  attention  and  cautious  nursing 
restored  her  to  life  and  her  friends. 

The  situation  of  Mrs.  Polk,  another  prisoner,  with 
four  small  children,  was  almost  as  pitiable  as  that  of 
Mrs.  Bland.  She  was  in  a  delicate  state,  and  com 
pelled  to  walk  until  she  became  nearly  incapable  of 
motion.  She  was  then  threatened  with  death,  and 
the  tomahawk  brandished  over  her  head  by  an  Indian  ; 
when  another  who  saw  it  begged  her  life — took  her 
under  his  care — mounted  her  on  a  horse,  with  her  two 
children — and  conducted  her  safe  to  Detroit ;  where 
those  went  who  had  prisoners  or  scalps  to  dispose  of 
to  purchasers.  She  was  of  course  purchased,  as  she 
was  there  given  up  to  British  authority — well  treated — 
and  enabled  to  write  to  her  husband,  who  was  not  at 
home  when  she  was  taken,  though  a  resident  of  the 
station.  Relying  on  the  letter,  which  he  received 
after  some  time,  as  a  passport  from  the  British,  and 
incurring  the  risk  of  danger  from  the  Indians,  he 
went  for  his  wife,  obtained  her,  and  brought  her  and 
five  children  safe  to  Kentucky.  After  the  peace  cf 
next  year,  the  other  prisoners  were  also  liberated,  and 
came  home. 


MASSY  HERBESON. 

THE  captivity,  sufferings,  and  escape  of  Mrs.  Massy 
Herbeson  and  her  family,  occupy  a  conspicuous  place 
in  every  history  of  Indian  atrocity.  We  give  her  nar 
rative  as  it  was  deposed  before  an  alderman  of  Alle- 
gliany  county,  Pennsylvania.  Mrs.  Herbeson  lived 
near  Reed's  block-house,  about  twenty-five  miles  from 
Pittsburg. 

Mr.  Herbeson,  being  one  of  the  spies,  was  from 
home ;  two  of  the  scouts  had  lodged  with  her  that 
night,  but  had  left  her  house  about  sunrise,  in  order 
to  go  to  the  block-house,  and  had  left  the  door  stand 
ing  wide  open.  Shortly  after  the  two  scouts  went 
away,  a  number  of  Indians  came  into  the  house,  and 
drew  her,  out  of  bed  by  the  feet ;  the  two  eldest  child 
ren,  who  also  lay  in  another  bed  were  drawn  out  in 
the  same  manner ;  a  younger  child,  about  one  year 
old,  slept  with  Mrs.  Herbeson.  -The  Indians  then 
scrambled  about  the  articles  in  the  house.  Whilst 
they  were  at  this  work,  Mrs.  Herbeson  went  out  of 
the  house,  and  hallooed  to  the  people  in  the  block 
house  ;  one  of  the  Indians  then  ran  up  and  stopped 
her  mouth,  another  ran  up  with  his  tomahawk  drawn. 


56  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  a  third  ran  and  seized  the  tomahawk  and  called 
her  his  squaw ;  this  last  Indian  claimed  her  as  his,  and 
continued  by  her.  About  fifteen  of  the  Indians  then  ran 
down  toward  the  block-house  and  fired  their  guns  at 
the  store  and  block-house,  in  consequence  of  which  one 
soldier  was  killed  and  another  wounded,  one  having 
been  at  the  spring  and  the  other  in  coming  or  looking 
out  of  the  store-house.  On  Mrs.  Herbeson,  telling  the 
Indians  there  were  about  forty  men  in  the  block-house, 
and  each  man  had  two  guns,  the  Indians  went  to  them 
that  were  firing  at  the  block-house,  and  brought  them 
back.  They  then  began  to  drive  Mrs.  Herbeson  and 
her  children  back ;  but  a  boy,  about  three  years  old, 
being  unwilling  to  leave  the  house,  they  took  it  by 
the  heels,  and  dashed  it  against  the  house  and  then 
stabbed  and  scalped  it.  They  then  took  Mrs.  Herbe 
son  and  the  two  other  children  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 
where  they  stopped  until  they  tied  up  the  plunder 
they  had  got.  While  they  were  busy  about  this,  Mrs. 
Herbeson  counted"  them,  and  the  number  amounted  to 
thirty-two,  including  two  white  men,  that  were  with 
them,  painted  like  the  Indians. 

Several  of  the  Indians  could  speak  English,  and 
she  knew  three  or  four  of  them  very  well,  having  often 
seen  them  go  up  and  down  the  Alleghany  river ;  two 
of  them  she  knew  to  be  Senecas,  and  two  Munsees, 
who  had  their  guns  mended  by  her  husband  two  years 
ago.  They  sent  two  Indians  with  her,  and  the  others 
took  their  course  towards  Pluckty.  The  children  and 


MASSY  HARBESON.  57 

the  two  Indians  had  not  gone  above  two  hundred  yards, 
when  the  Indians  caught  two  of  her  uncle's  horses, 
put  her  and  the  youngest  child  upon  one,«and  one  of 
the  Indians  and  the  other  child  upon  the  other.  The 
two  Indians  then  took  her  and  the  children  to  the 
Alleghany  river,  and  took  them  over  in  bark  canoes, 
as  they  could  not  get  the  horses  to  swim  the  river. 
After  they  had  crossed  the  river,  the  oldest  child,  a 
boy  of  about  five  years  of  age,  began  to  mourn  for 
his  brother,  when  one  of  the  Indians  tomahawked  and 
scalped  him.  They  travelled  all  day  very  hard,  and 
that  night  arrived  at  a  large  camp,  covered  with  bark, 
which,  by  appearance,  might  hold  fifty  men.  That 
night  they  took  her  about  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  camp,  into  a  large  dark  bottom,  bound  her  arms, 
gave  her  some  bed  clothes,  and  lay  down  on  each  side 
of  her.  The  next  morning  they  took  her  into  a  thicket 
on  the  hill  side,  and  one  remained  with  her  till  the 
middle  of  the  day.  While  the  other  went  to  watch 
the  path,  lest  some  white  people  should  follow  them. 
They  then  exchanged  places  during  the  remainder  of 
the  day :  she  got  a  piece  of  dry  venison,  the  size  of  an 
egg,  that  day,  and  a  piece  about  the  same  size  the  day 
they  were  marching ;  that  evening,  (Wednesday  23d) 
they  moved  her  to  a  new  place,  and  secured  her  as 
the  night  before.  During  the  day  of  the  23d,  she 
made  several  attempts  to  get  the  Indian's  gun  or 
tomahawk,  that  was  guarding  her,  and,  had  she  suc 
ceeded,  she  would  have  put  him  to  death.  She  wag 


58  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

nearly  detected  in  trying  to  get  the  tomahawk  from 
his  belt. 

The  next  morning  (Thursday)  one  of  the  Indiana 
went  out,  as  on  the  day  before,  to  watch  the  path. 
The  other  lay  down  and  fell  asleep.  When  she  found 
he  was  sleeping,  she  stole  her  short  gown,  handker 
chief,  a  child's  frock,  and  then  made  her  escape ; — the 
sun  was  then  about  half  an  hour  high — when  she  took 
her  course  from  the  Alleghany,  in  order  to  deceive  the 
Indians,  as  they  would  naturally  pursue  her  that  way ; 
that  day  she  travelled  along  Conequenessing  Creek. — 
The  next  day  she  altered  her  course,  and,  as  she 
believes,  fell  upon  the  waters  of  Pine  Creek,  which 
empties  into  the  Alleghany.  Thinking  this  not  her 
best  course,  went  over  some  dividing  ridges, — lay  on 
a  dividing  ridge  on  Friday  night,  and  on  Saturday  came 
to  Squaw  run — continued  down  the  run  until  an  In 
dian  or  some  other  person,  shot  a  deer ;  she  saw  the 
person  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  her. 

She  then  altered  her  course,  but  again,  came  to  the 
same  run,  and  continued  down  it  until  she  got  so  tired 
that  she  was  obliged  to  lie  down,  it  having  rained  upon 
her  all  day  and  the  night  before;  she  remained  there 
that  night ;  it  rained  constantly.  On  Sunday  she  pro 
ceeded  down  the  run  until  she  came  to  the  Alleghany 
river,  and  continued  down  the  river  till  she  came  op 
posite  Carter's  house,  on  the  inhabited  side,  where  she 
made  a  noise,  and  James  Closier  brought  her  over  the 
river  to  Carter's  house. 


MRS.  WHITE. 

AFTER  the  defeat  of  General  St.  Glair's  army,  in 
November,  1791,  the  frontier  on  the  west  was  more 
than  ever  exposed  to  the  hostilities  of  the  savage  foe ; 
and  many  instances  of  terrible  outrage,  on  individuals 
living  in  exposed  situations,  are  recorded  as  having 
taken  place  at  that  gloomy  period.  In  April,  1792, 
information  was  received,  that  the  Cherokees,  of  five 
towns,  would  join  the  Shawanese,  in  a  war  against 
Kentucky.  One  incident  of  this  war  was  productive 
of  an  act  of  heroism,  which  Mr.  Butler  records  in  his 
"  History  of  Kentucky,"  as  given  below.  It  is  only 
to  be  regretted  that  the  historian  has  not  given  us 
more  fully  the  details  of  the  affair.  His  account  is 
as  follows : 

"  Towards  the  end  of  the  month,  an  incident  of  In 
dian  hostility  occurred,  which  produced  more  than 
ordinary  interest.  A  Mrs.  White,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Frankfort,  defended  her  house  against  nine  Indians ; 
killed  one  of  them,  and  scared  the  others.  The  facts 
are  these  :  a  few  families,  forming  a  small  station, 

(59) 


60  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

were  engaged  in  their  usual  occupations  ;  some  of  the 
men  absent,  some  about  the  yard  ;  the  women,  two  or 
three  in  number,  were  in  Mrs.  White's  house  ;  when 
nine  of  the  enemy  surprise  the  place,  kill  three  white 
men,  as  many  negroes,  and  make  the  rest  prisoners. 
The  women  shut  and  bar  the  door.  It  is  immediately 
assailed  by  the  savages,  who  attempt,  but  in  vain,  to 
force  it.  A  part  of  them  next  try  to  fire  the  wall ; 
others  mount  to  the  roof,  which  is  of  boards,  and 
which  must  soon  have  enabled  the  Indians,  by  re 
moving  them,  to  enter  the  house.  In  this  situation, 
which  might  have  appalled  an  ordinary  hero,  Mrs.  White 
seized  her  husband's  rifle,  and  fired  it,  with  so  good 
an  aim,  that  one  of  the  Indians  was  killed — and  the 
rest,  seeing  him  fall,  instantly  fled. 

A  few  days  after,  one  man  was  killed,  and  another 
taken  prisoner.  By  this  time  the  neighboring  militia 
were  collected,  and  pursuing  the  enemy,  killed  one  of 
them  and  rescued  the  prisoners.  About  the  same  time, 
two  men  were  killed  near  the  upper  Blue  Licks.  Such 
was  the  terrible  scene  exhibited  by  the  war.  Of 
which  this  seemed  but  a  repetition  of  others  which 
had  preceded. 


MES.  DUEEE. 

IN  1779,  a  settlement  was  founded  at  White  Oak 
Spring,  about  a  mile  above  Boonesborough,  and  in  the 
same  river  bottom.  It  was  composed  principally  of 
families  from  York  county,  Pennsylvania — orderly, 
respectable  people,  and  the  men  good  soldiers.  But 
they  were  unaccustomed  to  Indian  warfare,  and  the 
consequence  was,  that  of  some  ten  or  twelve  men,  all 
were  killed  but  two  or  three.  During  this  period,  Peter 
Duree,  the  elder,  the  principal  man  of  the  connexion, 
determined  to  settle  a  fort  between  Estill's  station  and 
the  mouth  of  Muddy  Creek,  directly  on  the  trace  be 
tween  the  Cherokee  and  Shawanese  towns.  Having 
erected  a  cabin,  his  son-in-law,  John  Bullock  and  his 
family,  and  his  son,  Peter  Duree,  his  wife  and  two 
children,  removed  to  it,  taking  a  pair  of  hand  mill 
stones  with  them.  They  remained  for  two  or  three 
days  shut  up  in  their  cabin,  but  their  corn  meal  being 
exhausted,  they  were  compelled  to  venture  out  to  cut 
a  hollow  tree  in  order  to  adjust  their  hand  mill.  They 
attacked  by  Indians — Bullock,  after  running  a 
6  (61) 


62  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

short  distance,  fell.  Duree  reached  the  cabin,  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  bed.  Mrs.  Bullock  ran  to  the 
door  to  ascertain  the  fate  of  her  husband — received  a 
shot  in  the  breast,  and  fell  across  the  door  sill.  Mrs. 
Duree,  not  knowing  whether  her  husband  had  been 
shot  or  had  fainted,  caught  her  by  the  feet,  pulled  her 
into  the  house  and  barred  the  door.  She  grasped  a 
rifle,  and  told  her  husband  she  would  help  him  to  fight. 
He  replied  that  he  had  been  wounded  and  was  dying. 
She  then  presented  the  gun  through  several  port-holes 
in  quick  succession — then  calmly  closed  his  eyes  in 
death.  After  waiting  several  hours,  and  seeing  no 
thing  more  of  the  Indians,  she  sallied  out  to  make  her 
way  to  the  White  Oak  Spring,  with  her  infant  in  her 
arms,  and  a  son  three  or  four  years  old  following. 
Afraid  to  pursue  the  trace,  she  entered  the  woods, 
and  after  running  till  she  was  nearly  exhausted,  she 
came  at  length  to  the  trace.  She  then  determined  to 
to  follow  it  at  all  hazards,  and  having  advanced  a  few 
miles  further,  she  met  the  elder  Mr.  Duree  with  his 
wife  and  youngest  son,  with  their  baggage,  on  their 
way  to  the  new  station.  The  melancholy  tidings  in 
duced  them  of  course  to  return.  They  led  their  horses 
into  an  adjoining  canebrake,  unloaded  them,  and 
regained  the  White  Oak  Spring  fort  before  daylight. 
It  is  impossible  at  this  day  to  make  a  just  impres~ 
sion  of  the  sufferings  of  the  pioneers  about  the  period 
spoken  of.  The  White  Oak  Spring  fort,  in  1782, 
with  perhaps  one  hundred  souls  in  it,  was  reduced  ID 


MRS.  DUREE.  63 

August,  to  three  fighting  white  men — and  I  can  say 
with  truth,  (says  Captain  Nathaniel  Hart,  of  Wood- 
ford  county,  in  a  letter  to  Governor  Morehead,  of 
Kentucky,)  that  for  two  or  three  weeks,  my  mother's 
family  never  unclothed  themselves  to  sleep,  nor  were 
all  of  them,  within  the  time,  at  their  meals  together, 
nor  was  any  household  business  attempted.  Food  was 
prepared,  and  placed  where  those  who  chose  could  eat. 
It  was  the  period  when  Bryant's  station  was  besieged, 
and  for  many  days  before  and  after  that  gloomy  event, 
we  were  in  constant  expectation  of  being  made  pri 
soners.  We  made  application  to  Colonel  Logan  for  a 
guard,  and  obtained  one,  but  not  until  the  danger  was 
nearly  over.  Colonel  Logan  did  every  thing  in  his 
power,  as  county  lieutenant,  to  sustain  the  different 
forts — but  it  was  net  a  very  easy  matter  to  order  a 
married  man  from  a  fort  where  his  family  was,  to 
defend  some  other — when  his  own  was  in  imminent 
danger. 

I  went  with  my  mother  in  January,  1783,  to  Logan's 
station  to  prove  my  father's  will.  He  had  fallen  in  the 
preceding  July.  Twenty  armed  men  were  of  the  party. 
Twenty-three  widows  were  in  attendance  upon  the 
court,  to  obtain  letters  of  administration  on  the  estate^ 
of  their  husbands  who  had  been  killed  during  the  past 
year.  My  mother  went  to  Colonel  Logan's,  who  re 
ceived  and  treated  her  like  a  sister. 

The  escape  of  Mrs.  Duree  may  seem  the  result  of 
her  good  fortune ;  but  it  is  more  probable  that,  by  her 


64  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST, 

stratagem  of  presenting  the  gun  through  several  port 
noles  in  quick  succession,  as  above  mentioned,  she 
frightened  the  foe  away,  and  thus  gained  a  fair  field 
to  escape  with  her  children.  A  heroine  was  Mrs. 
Duree. 


MRS.  ROWAN. 

IN  the  following  narrative,  communicated  by  Jo  he 
Rowan,  of  Kentucky,  to  Dr.  Drake,  of  Cincinnati,  we 
have  an  account  of  a  display  of  cool  courage  by  a 
woman,  in  a  degree  rarely  witnessed,  even  in  the  west. 

In  the  latter  part  of  April,  1784,  my  father  with 
his  family,  and  five  other  families,  set  put  from  Louis 
ville,  in  two  flat-bottomed  boats,  for  the  Long  Falls  of 
Green  river.  The  intention  was  to  descend  the  Ohio 
river  to  the  mouth  of  Green  river,  and  ascend  that 
river  to  the  place  of  destination.  At  that  time  there 
were  no  settlements  in  Kentucky,  within  one  hundred 
miles  of  Long  Falls  of  the  Green  river  (afterwards  called 
Vienna.)  The  families  were  in  one  boat  and  their 
cattle  in  the  other.  When  we  had  descended  the  river 
Ohio,  about  one  hundred  miles,  acd  were  near  the 
middle  of  it,  gliding  along  very  securely,  as  we  thought, 
about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  we  heard  a  prodigious 
yelling,  by  Indians,  some  two  or  three  miles  below  us, 
on  the  northern  shore.  We  had  floated  but  a  little 
5  6*  (65) 


36  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

distance  farther  down  the  river,  when  we  saw  a  num 
ber  of  fires  on  that  shore.  The  jelling  still  continued, 
and  we  concluded  that  they  had  captured  a  boat  which 
had  passed  us  about  midday,  arid  were  massacreing 
their  captives.  Our  two  boats  were  lashed  together, 
and  the  best  practical  arrangements  were  made  for  de 
fending  them.  The  men  were  distributed  by  my  fa 
ther  to  the  best  advantage  in  case  of  an  attack ;  they 
were  seven  in  number,  including  himself.  The  boats 
were  neared  to  the  Kentucky  shore,  with  as  little 
noise  from  the  oars  as  possible.  We  were  afraid  to 
approach  too  near  the  Kentucky  shore,  lest  there 
might  be  Indians  on  that  shore  also.  We  had  not 
yet  reached  their  uppermost  fire,  (their  fires  were  ex 
tended  along  the  bank  at  intervals  for  half  a  mile  or 
more,)  and  we  entertained  a  faint  hope  that  we  might 
slip  by  un  perceived.  But  they  discovered  us  when 
we  had  got  about  midway  of  their  fires,  and  com 
manded  us  to  come  to.  We  were  silent,  for  my  father 
had  given  strict  orders  that  no  one  should  utter  any 
sound  but  that  of  the. rifle :  and  not  that  until  the  In 
dians  should  come  within  powder  burning  distance. 
They  united  in  a  most  terrific  yell,  and  rushed  to  their 
canoes,  and  pursued  us.  We  floated  on  in  silence — 
not  an  oar  was  pulled.  They  approached  us  within 
a  hundred  yards,  with  a  seeming  determination  to 
board  us.  Just  at  this  moment  my  mother  rose  from 
her  seat,  collected  the  axes,  and  placed  one  by  the 
side  of  each  man,  where  he  stood  with  his  gun,  touching 


MRS.  ROWAN.  67 

him  on  the  kn-ee  with  the  handle  of  the  axe,  as  she 
leaned  it  up  by  him  against  the  side  of  the  boat, 
to  let  him  know  it  was  there,  and  retired  to  her 
seat,  retaining  a  hatchet  for  herself.  The  Indians 
continued  hovering  on  our  rear,  and  yelling,  for  near 
three  miles,  when,  awed  by  the  inference  which  they 
drew  from  our  silence,  they  relinquished  farther  pur 
suit.  None  but  those  who  have  had  a  practical  ac 
quaintance  with  Indian  warfare,  can  form  a  just  idea 
of  the  terror  which  this  hideous  yelling  is  calculated 
to  inspire.  I  was  then  about  ten  years  old,  and  shall 
never  forget  the  sensations  of  that  night ;  nor  can  I 
ever  cease  to  admire  the  fortitude  and  composure  dis 
played  by  my  mother  on  that  trying  occasion.  We 
were  saved,  I  have  no  doubt,  by  the  judicious  system 
of  conduct  and  defence,  which  my  father  had  pre 
scribed  to  our  little  band.  We  were  seven  men  and 
three  boys — but  nine  guns  in  all.  They  were  more 
than  a  hundred.  My  mother,  in  speaking  of  it  after 
wards,  in  her  calm  way,  said,  "  We  had  made  a  provi 
dential  escape,  for  which  we  ought  to  feel  grateful." 

That  mother  of  the  west  should  have  a  monument. 
It  would  remind  her  descendants  who  are  accustomed 
to  hearing  females  designated  as  the  "  weaker  vessels," 
that  upon  trying  occasions,  the  strength  of  soul,  which 
is  beyond  that  of  sinew  and  muscle,  has  appeared  in 
woman,  and  may  appear  again. 


MISS  HECKEWELDER. 

THE  following  letter  addressed  to  the  editor  of  the 
"  American  Pioneer,"  was  written  by  the  daughter  of 
the  well-known  missionary  to  the  Indians,  the  Rev. 
John  Heckewelder.  Miss  Heckewelder  was  the  first 
white  child  born  in  Ohio.  Her  narrative  of  the  toils 
and  sufferings  among  the  Indians  is  highly  interesting. 

Bethlehem,  Pa.,  February  24th,  1843. 
J.  S.  WILLIAMS,  ESQ. 

Dear  Sir — Yours  of  the  31st  ult.,  to  Mr.  Kummen, 
post-master  at  this  place,  has  been  handed  to  me.  I 
have  not  been  in  the  habit  of  making  much  use  of  my 
pen  for  a  number  of  years ;  I  will,  however,  at  your 
request,  endeavor  to  give  you  a  short  account  of  the 
first  four  years  of  my  life,  which  were  all  I  spent 
amongst  the  Indians,  having  since  lived  in  Bethlehem 
nearly  all  the  time.  My  acquaintance  or  knowledge 
of  them  and  their  history,  is  chiefly  from  books,  and 
what  I  heard  from  my  father  and  other  missionaries. 

I  was  born  April  16th,  1781,  in  Salem,  one  of  the 
Moravian  Indian  towns,  on  the  Muskingum  river,  state 
(68) 


MISS  HECKEWELDER.  69 

of  Ohio.  Soon  after  my  birth,  times  becoming  very 
troublesome,  the  settlements  were  often  in  danger  fi  om 
war  parties,  and  from  an  encampment  of  warriors  near 
Gnadenhutten  ;  and  finally,  in  the  beginning  of  Sep 
tember  of  the  same  year,  we  were  all  made  prisoners. 
First,  four  of  the  missionaries  were  seized  by  a 
party  of  Huron  warriors,  and  declared  prisoners  of 
war  ;  they  were  then  led  into  the  camp  of  the  Dela- 
wares,  where  the  death-song  was  sung  over  them.  Soon 
after  they  had  secured  them,  a  number  of  warriors 
marched  off  for  Salem  and  Shoenbrun.  About  thirty 
savages  arrived  at  the  former  place  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  and  broke  open  the  mission  house.  Here  they 
took  my  mother  and  myself  prisoners,  and  having  led 
her  into  the  street  and  placed  guards  over  her,  they 
plundered  the  house  of  every  thing  they  could  take 
with  them  and  destroyed  what  was  left.  Then  going 
to  take  my  mother  along  with  them,  the  savages  were 
prevailed  upon  through  the  intercession  of  the  Indian 
females,  to  let  her  remain  at  Salem  till  the  next  morn 
ing — the  night  being  dark  and  rainy  and  almost  im 
possible  for  her  to  travel  so  far — they  at  last  con 
sented  on  condition  that  she  should  be  brought  into 
the  camp  the  next  morning,  which  was  accordingly 
done,  and  she  was  safely  conducted  by  our  Indians  to 
Gnadenhutten. 

After  experiencing  the  cruel  treatment  of  the 
savages  for  sometime,  they  were  set  at  liberty  again ; 
but  we  were  obliged  to  leave  their  flourishing  settle- 


70  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

ments,  and  forced  to  march  through  a  dreary  wilder 
ness  to  Upper  Sandusky.  We  went  by  land  through 
(roshachguenk  to  the  Walholding,  and  then  partly  by 
water  and  partly  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  to  San- 
dusky  creek..  All  the  way  I  was  carried  by  an  Indian 
woman,  carefully  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  on  her  back. 
Our  journey  was  exceedingly  tedious  and  dangerous  ; 
some  of  the  canoes  sunk,  and  those  that  were  in  them 
lost  all  their  provisions  and  every  thing  they  had 
saved.  Those  who  went  by  land  drove  the  cattle,  a 
pretty  large  herd.  The  savages  now  drove  us  along, 
the  missionaries  with  their  families  usually  in  the 
midst,  surrounded  by  their  Indian  converts.  The 
roads  were  exceedingly  bad,  leading  through  a  con 
tinuation  of  swamps.  Having  arrived  at  Upper  San- 
dusky,  they  built  small  huts  of  logs  and  bark  to  screen 
them  from  the  cold,  having  neither  beds  or  blankets, 
and  being  reduced  to  the  greatest  poverty  and  want ; 
for  the  savages  had  by  degrees  stolen  almost  every 
thing,  both  from  the  missionaries  and  Indians,  on  the 
journey.  We  lived  here  extremely  poor,  oftentimes 
very  little  or  nothing  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  hunger ; 
and  the  poorest  of  the  Indians  were  obliged  to  live 
upon  their  dead  cattle,  which  died  for  want  of  pasture. 
After  living  in  this  dreary  wilderness,  in  danger, 
poverty,  and  distress  of  all  sorts,  a  written  order 
arrived  in  March,  1782,  sent  by  the  governor  to  the 
half  king  of  the  Hurons  and  to  an  English  officer  in 
his  company,  to  bring  all  the  missionaries  and  theii 


MISS  HECKEWELDER.  71 

families  to  Detroit,  but  with  a  strict  order  not  to 
plunder  nor  abuse  them  in  the  least.  The  missionaries 
were  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  idea  of  being 
separated  from  their  Indians  ;  but  there  being  no  alter 
native,  they  were  obliged  to  submit  to  this,  one  of  the 
heaviest  of  their  trials.  The  poor  Indians  came  weep 
ing  to  bid  them  farewell,  and  accompanied  them  a 
considerable  way,  some  as  far  as  Lower  Sandusky. 
Here  we  were  obliged  to  spend  several  nights  in  the 
open  air,  and  suffered  great  cold  besides  other  hard 
ships.  April  14th,  we  set  out  and  crossed  over  a  part 
of  the  lakes  Erie  and  Huron.  We  were  lodged  in  the 
barracks  by  order  of  the  governor.  Some  weeks  after, 
we  left  the  barracks  with  his  consent  and  moved  into 
a  house  at  a  small  distance  from  the  town. 

The  Indian  converts,  gathering  around  their 
teachers,  they  resolved  with  the  consent  of  their 
governor,  to  begin  the  building  of  a  new  settlement 
upon  a  spot  about  thirty  miles  from  Detroit,  on  the  river 
Huron,  which  they  called  New  Gnadenhutten,  and 
which  increased  considerably  from  time  to  time.  Here 
I  lived  till  the  year  1785,  when  I  set  out  with  an  aged 
missionary  couple  to  be  educated  in  the  school  at  Beth 
lehem.  We  commenced  our  journey  about  the  middle 
May,  and  arrived  at  the  latter  place  July  9th,  after  a 
very  tedious  and  perilous  journey — proceeding  down 
the  river  Huron  into  Lake  St.  Glair,  thence  to  Detroit, 
and  crossing  Lake  Erie  to  Niagara  and  Oswego,  thence 
iown  Oswego  river  to  Lake  Oneida,  thence  down  the 


HEKOIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Waldbah  to  Fort  Stanwix.  We  then  arrived  at  a 
carrying  place  at  the  Mohawk  river,  and  proceeded  to 
Scheriectady  ;  went  by  land  to  Albany,  and  then  by 
water  to  New  Windsor,  and  then  again  by  land  to 
Bethlehem. 

I  fear  my  account  has  become  rather  too  long  and 
tedious.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  the  Pioneer, 
it  is  a  most  interesting  work,  and  I  wish  I  could  but 
gain  some  patronage  for  you  ;  but  money  is  so  scarce, 
there  is  at  present  no  prospect. 


MRS.  TACKBTT,  THE  CAPTIVE. 

THE  following  thrilling  narrative  is  copied  from 
the  Hesperian. 

The  sufferings  endured  by  the  first  emigrants  to  a 
new  country,  scarcely  admit  of  description.  These 
have  always  been  greatly  multiplied  by  an  encroach 
ment  upon  the  rights  and  possessions  of  the  abori 
gines.  In  reference  to  this  country,  where  we  have 
long  been  considered  unwelcome  intruders,  this  has 
been  peculiarly  the  case.  The  settlement  of  no  part 
of  the  world  has  been  more  fruitful  of  incident  than 
that  of  our  own.  Although  many  pens  have  been 
employed  from  time  to  time,  in  detailing  our  wars  with 
the  Indians,  still  many  interesting  occurrences  have 
escaped  the  historian's  notice.  Some  of  these  have 
appeared  in  the  form  of  newspaper  paragraphs,  while 
others  of  equal  importance  have  escaped  this  ephemeral 
kind  of  repository. 

The  writer  of  this  article  has  several  times  travelled 
the  road  which  lies  on  the  banks  of  the  Kenhawa. 
1  (73) 


74  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEPT. 

Although  he  found  mountains  whose  tops  pierced  the 
clouds,  and  a  beautiful  river  whose  margins  smoked 
with  salt  furnaces,  to  amuse  him  by  day,  his  enter 
tainment  was  not  diminished  by  the  approach  of  dark 
ness.  He  has  usually  sought  lodgings  with  some  of 
of  the  more  ancient  inhabitants,  many  of  whom  ac 
commodate  their  guests  with  great  hospitality.  Like 
the  early  adventurers  to  new  settlements,  they  are 
social,  and  delight  in  the  recital  of  their  dangerous 
enterprises  and  hair-breadth  escapes.  Mr.  M.,  at  whose 
comfortable  mansion  it  was  the  writer's  good  fortune 
to  tarry  one  night,  the  last  time  he.  passed  through 
Western  Virginia,  gave  him  the  following  narrative. 

Just  below  the  mouth  of  Cole  river,  on  the  farm 
owned  by  the  heirs  of  Tays,  to  insure  their  safety  the 
early  settlers  constructed  a  fortress.  It  was  formed 
exclusively  of  timber,  without  much  labor,  yet  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  be  deemed  adequate  to  their  defence 
against  Indian  aggression.  On  the  apprehension  of 
danger,  the  gate  was  closed,  and  every  one  prepared 
for  resistance.  When  the  demand  for  food  became 
imperious,  a  few  of  the  most  skilful  hunters  would 
leave  this  retreat  before  day,  go  a  few  miles  distant, 
return  the  succeeding  night,  loaded  with  game,  un 
noticed  by  the  skulking  savage.  These  measures  of 
safety  were  at  first  considered  indispensable.  A  few 
weeks  of  repose,  however,  seemed  to  render  them  in 
convenient  and  unnecessary.  Exemption  from  a  morn 
ing  attack  was  thought  a  sufficient  pledge  of  peace 


75 

through  the  day.  Familiarity  with  danger,  as  it  always 
does,  relaxed  their  vigilance  and  diminished  their  pre 
caution.  Even  the  women  and  children,  who  at  first 
had  been  frightened  by  the  falling  of  a  tree,  or  the 
hooting  of  an  owl,  lost  their  timidity.  Indeed,  the 
strife  seemed  to  be,  who  should  be  boldest,  and  the 
Jeast  apprehensive  of  peril. 

On  a  beautiful  morning,  in  the  month  of  June,  1778, 
as  well  as  is  recollected,  the  gate  was  thrown  open. 
Confinement  had  become  painful,  nay,  insupportable. 
It  was  considered  rather  as  a  voluntary  punishment, 
than  a  condition  of  security.  Three  of  the  fearless 
inhabitants  set  out  on  a  hunting  expedition.  Some 
sought  amusement  in  shooting  at  a  mark ;  the  younger 
engaged  in  playing  at  ball,  while  the  women  and 
children  were  delighted  spectators  of  the  recreation. 
Scarcely  had  an  hour  elapsed  in  these  cheerful  relaxa 
tions,  before  some  twenty  or  thirty  Indians  suddenly 
ascended  the  river  bank  which  had  concealed  their 
approach,  fired  upon  the  whites,  and  instantly  took 
possession  of  the  fort.  Amidst  the  consternation 
which  ensued,  the  savages  put  to  death  every  white 
man  on  whom  they  could  lay  hands,  reserving  the 
women  and  children  for  more  trying  occasions. 

The  wounded,  who  were  unable  to  travel,  without 
regard  to  age  or  sex,  were  butchered  in  the  most 
shocking  manner,  of  which  description  was  James 
Tackett.  The  importunities  and  tears  of  his  interest 
ing  wife  were  wholly  unavailing.  She  was  left  with 


76  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

two  fine  boys,  the  one  seven  years  old,  and  the  other 
five.  Apprehensive  of  pursuit  by  the  whites,  the  In 
dians,  after  the  destruction  of  every  article  they  could 
not  remove,  betook  themselves  to  flight.  When  a 
prisoner  became  too  feeble,  as  was  the  case  with  seve 
ral  small  children,  all  entreaties  to  avert  the  stroke 
of  the  tomahawk  were  fruitless.  Although  Mrs. 
Tackett  afforded  to  her  children  all  the  aid  which  their 
situation  and  maternal  tenderness  could  dictate,  at 
the  distance  of  about  five  miles  the  youngest  became 
exhausted.  Her  extreme  anxiety  for  his  safety  in 
duced  her  to  take  him  on  her  back;  but  alas!  this 
act  of  kindness  was  but  the  signal  for  his  dispatch. 

Two  hours  afterwards  her  other  child  began  to  fail. 
He  grasped  his  mother's  hand,  and  said,  "  I  must 
keep  up  with  you  or  be  killed  as  poor  James  was." 
The  exertions  which  she  made  for  her  child  were 
beyond  what  she  could  sustain.  For  a  time  she  in 
spired  him  with  the  hope  of  relief  which  the  approach 
ing  night  would  bring.  Nature,  however,  became 
overpowered,  and  a  single  blow,  sunk  him  to  rest.  The 
distracted  parent  would  cheerfully  have  submitted  to 
the  same  fate,  but  even  this  barbarous  relief  was  denied 
her.  About  dark  she  lagged  behind,  regardless  of 
•consequences,  in  charge  of  a  warrior  who  could  speak  a 
little  English.  He  informed  her  that  in  the  course  of 
an  hour  they  would  reach  a  large  encampment,  where 
the  prisoners  must  be  divided ;  that  sometimes  quarrels 
ensued  on  such  occasions,  and  the  captives  were  put 


MRS.  TACKETT,  THE  CAPTIVE.  77 

to  death.  He  asked  her  if  she  could  write.  An  affirma 
tive  answer  seemed  to  please  him  much.  He  said  he 
•would  take  her  to  his  country  in  the  south,  to  be  his 
wife  and  to  keep  his  accounts,  as  he  was  a  trader. 
This  Indian  was  a  Cherokee,  and  named  Chickahoula ; 
aged  about  thirty  five,  and  of  good  appearance. 

He  soon  took  the  first  step  necessary  for  carrying 
his  designs  into  execution,  by  making  a  diversion  to 
the  left.  After  travelling  about  two  miles,  the  dark 
ness  of  the  night  and  abruptness  of  the  country  for 
bade  their  advancing  father.  A  small  fire  was  made 
to  defend  them  against  the  gnats  and  musqiutoes.  Af 
ter  eating  a  little  jerk,  Chickahoula  told  his  captive 
to  sleep ;  that  he  would  watch  lest  they  should  be 
overtaken  by  pursuers.  Early  in  the  morning  he 
directed  his  course  towards  the  head  of  the  Great 
Sandy  and  Kentucky  rivers.  Until  he  crossed  Guy- 
andotte,  Chickahoula  was  constantly  on  the  lookout, 
as  if  he  deemed  himself  exposed  to  the  most  imminent 
danger.  After  having  travelled  seven  days,  the  war 
rior  and  the  captive  reached  Powell's  valley,  in  Ten 
nessee.  By  this  time  they  were  out  of  provisions ; 
and  the  Indian  thinking  it  safer,  while  passing  through 
a  settled  district,  to  steal  food  than  to  depend  upon 
his  gun,  determined  to  avail  himself  of  the  first  oppor 
tunity  of  supplying  his  wants  in  this  manner.  It  was 
but  a  little  while  till  one  presented  itself.  Following 
the  meanderings  of  a  small  rivulet,  he  came  suddenly 
upon  a  spring-house,  or  dairy.  This  was  several  rodi 
7* 


78  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

from  the  dwelling-house  of  the  owner,  and  so  situated 
that  it  could  be  approached  unseen  from  thence.  Well 
satisfied  that  it  contained  a  rich  store  of  milk,  and 
thinking  it  probable  that  other  provision  was  there, 
the  warrior  stationed  his  captive  to  watch,  while  he 
went  in  to  rifle  the  spring-house.  Mrs.  Tackett 
readily  and  willingly  undertook  the  duty  of  acting  as 
sentinel;  but  no  sooner  was  the  Indian  fairly  within 
the  spring-house,  than  she  stole  up  the  slope,  and 
then  bounded  towards  the  dwelling.  This  reached, 
she  instantly  gave  the  alarm  ;  but  the  Indian  escaped. 
Mrs.  Tackett  tarried  for  some  time  with  her  new 
acquaintances,  and  spent  several  months  in  the  diffe 
rent  settlements  of  that  section  of  the  west.  An 
opportunity  then  offering,  she  returned  to  Greenbriar. 
Her  feelings  on  rejoining  her  friends  and  listening  to 
the  accounts  of  the  massacre  at  the  station, — and  those 
of  her  relatives  on  again  beholding  one  whom  they  con 
sidered,  if  not  dead,  in  hopeless  captivity,  may  be 
imagined ;  pen  cannot  describe  them. 


MRS.  MERRIL. 

IN  the  summer  of  1787,  the  house  of  John  Merril, 
in  Nelson  county,  Kentucky,  was  attacked  by  Indians. 
The  defence  was  spirited  and  successful,  Mrs.  Merril 
acted  with  the  most  determined  heroism. 

Merril  was  alarmed  by  the  barking  of  a  dog  about 
midnight,  and  in  opening  the  door  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  he  received  the  fire  of 
six  or  seven  Indians,  by  which  his  arm  and  thigh  were 
both  broken.  He  sank  upon  the  floor  and  called  upon 
his  wife  to  shut  the  door.  This  had  scarcely  been  done 
when  it  was  violently  assailed  by  the  tomahawks  of 
the  enemy,  and  a  large  breach  soon  effected.  Mrs. 
Merril,  however,  being  a  perfect  Amazon,  both  in 
strength  and  courage,  guarded  it  with  an  axe,  and  suc 
cessively  killed  or  badly  wounded  four  of  the  enemy  as 
they  attempted  to  force  their  way  into  the  cabin.  The 
Indians  then  ascended  the  roof  and  attempted  to  enter 
by  way  of  the  chimney,  but  here,  again,  they  were  met 
by  the  same  determined  enemy.  Mrs.  Merril  seized 
the  only  feather-bed  which  the  cabin  afforded,  and 

(79) 


80  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

hastily  ripping  it  open,  poured  its  contents  upon  the 
fire.  A  furious  blaze  and  stifling  smoke  ascended  the 
chimney,  and  quickly  brought  down  two  of  the  enemy, 
who  lay  for  a  few  moments  at  the  mercy  of  the  lady. 
Seizing  the  axe,  she  despatched  them,  and  was  instantly 
afterwards  summoned  to  the  door,  where  the  only  re 
maining  savage  now  appeared,  endeavoring  to  effect 
an  entrance,  while  Mrs.  Merril  was  engaged  at  the 
chimney.  He  soon  received  a  gash  in  the  cheek,  which 
compelled  him  with  a  loud  yell  to  relinquish  his  pur 
pose,  and  return  hastily  to  Chillicothe,  where,  from 
the  report  of  a  prisoner,  he  gave  an  exaggerated  ac 
count  of  the  fierceness,  strength,  and  courage  of  tha 
"long  knife  squ&w !" 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  MES.  COLEMANV 

THE  scenery  of  the  Ohio,  between  Columbia  and 
Cincinnati,  was  truly  romantic  in  the  pioneer  days  of 
1792.  Scarcely  a  tree  had  been  cut  on  either  side, 
between  the  mouth  of  Crawfish  and  that  of  Deer  creek, 
a  distance  of  more  than  four  miles.  The  sand-bar, 
now  extending  from  its  left  bank,  opposite  to  Sports 
man's  Hall,  was  then  a  small  island,  between  which 
and  the  Kentucky  shore  was  a  narrow  channel,  with 
sufficient  depth  of  water  for  the  passage  of  boats.  The 
upper  and  lower  points  of  this  island  were  bare,  but 
its  centre,  embracing  about  four  acres,  was  covered 
with  small  cotton  wrood,  and  surrounded  by  willows 
extending  along  its  sides  almost  down  to  the  water's 
edge.  The  right  bank  of  the  river  crowned  with  its 
lofty  hills,  now  gradually  ascending,  and  now  rising 
abruptly  to  their  summits,  and  forming  a  vast  amphi 
theatre,  was  from  Columbia,  extending  down  about 
two  miles,  very  steep,  and  covered  with  trees  quite 
down  to  the  beach.  From  thence,  nearly  opposite  the 
foot  of  the  island,  its  ascent  became  more  gradual- 
6  (81) 


82  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  for  two  miles  farther  down,  bordering  the  tall 
trees  with  which  it  was  covered,  was  a  thick  growth 
of  willows,  through  which  in  many  places  it  was  diffi 
cult  to  penetrate.  Below  this,  the  beach  was  wide 
and  stony,  with  only  here  and  there  a  small  tuft  of 
willows,  while  the  wood  on  the  side  and  on  the  top  of 
the  bank  was  more  open.  Not  far  from  this  bank  and 
near  the  line  of  the  present  turnpike,  was  a  narrow 
road  leading  from  Columbia  to  Cincinnati,  just  wide 
enough  for  the  passage  of  a  wagon,  which,  winding 
round  the  point  of  the  hill  above  Deer  creek,  descended 
northwardly  about  four  hundred  feet,  and  crossing 
that  creek,  and  in  a  southerly  direction  ascending 
gradually  its  western  bank,  led  along  the  ground,  now 
Symmes  street,  directly  towards  Fort  Washington, 
and  diverging  at  the  intersection  of  Lawrence  street 
to  the  right  and  left  of  the  fort,  entered  the  town.  The 
river  between  Columbia  and  Cincinnati  is  thus  minutely 
described  to  enable  the  reader  to  gain  a  clear  idea  of 
the  following  adventure. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  7th  of  July,  1792,  a  Mr. 
Oliver  M.  Spencer  and  a  few  friends,  embarked  in  a 
canoe,  at  Fort  Washington,  to  go  to  Columbia.  It 
was  a  small  craft,  and  hardly  fit  to  accommodate  the 
oarty,  which  thus  consisted  of  a  Mr.  Jacob  Light,  a 
Mr.  Clayton,  Mrs.  Coleman,  young  Spencer,  a  boy 
of  thirteen,  and  one  of  the  garrison  soldiers,  which 
last  individual  being  much  intoxicated,  lurched  from 
one  side  of  the  canoe  to  the  other,  and  finally  by  the 


THE  ESCAPE  OF  MRS.  COLEMAN.  83 

they  had  got  up  a  short  distance  above  Deer 
creek,  tumbled  out,  nearly  upsetting  the  whole  party. 
He  then  reached  the  shore,  the  water  not  being  very 
deep  at  the  spot.  Spencer  did  not  know  how  to  swim, 
and  had  become  afraid  to  continue  in  the  canoe,  and 
was  therefore  at  his  own  request  put  on  shore,  where 
they  left  the  soldier,  and  the  party  in  the  boat  and 
Spencer  on  shore,  proceeded  side  by  side.  Light  pro 
pelled  the  boat  forward  with  a  pole,  while  Clayton  sat 
at  the  stern  with  a  paddle,  which  he  sometimes  used 
as  an  oar,  and  sometimes  as  a  rudder,  and  Mrs.  Cole- 
man,  a  woman  of  fifty  years,  sat  in  the  middle  of  the 
boat.  One  mile  above  Deer  creek,  a  party  of  market 
people,  with  a  woman  and  child,  on  board  a  canoe, 
passed  them  on  their  way  to  Cincinnati.  Light  and 
the  others  had  rounded  a  small  point  in  the  cove  less 
than  a  mile  below  the  foot  of  the  island,  and  proceeded 
a  few  hundred  yards  along  the  clo&e  willows  here  bor 
dering  the  beach,  at  about  two  rods  distance  from  the 
Water,  when  Clayton  looking  back,  discovered  the 
drunken  man  staggering  along  the  shore,  and  re 
marked  that  he  would  be  "  bait  for  Indians."  Hardly 
nad  he  passed  the  remark,  when  two  rifle-shots  from 
the  rear  of  the  willow  struck  Light  and  his  comrade, 
causing  the  latter  to  fall  towards  the  shore,  and  wound 
ing  the  other  by  the  ball  glancing  from  the  oar.  The 
two  Indians  who  had  fired  instantly  rushed  from  their 
concealment,  to  scalp  the  dead,  and  impede  the  escape 
of  the  living.  Clayton  w,as  scalped,  and  Spencer,  in 


84  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  get  off,  was  made  prisoner, 
but  Light  swam  out  of  reach  of  his  pursuers,  and  Mrs. 
Coleman,  who  had  also  jumped  out,  preferring  to  be 
drowned  to  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  ana 
floated  some  distance  off.  The  Indians  would  probably 
have  reloaded  and  fired,  but  the  report  of  their  riflea 
brought  persons  to  the  opposite  shore,  which  forced 
them  to  decamp  with  their  young  prisoner,  saying, 
"  squaw  must  drown."  Light  first  made  for  the  Ken 
tucky  shore,  but  finding  he  .could  not  reach  it  in  his 
crippled  state,  directed  his  way  out  on  the  Ohio  side. 
Mrs.  Coleman  followed,  using  her  hands  as  paddles, 
and  they  both  got  to  shore  some  distance  below  the 
scene  of  these  events.  Light  had  barely  got  out  when 
he  fell,  but  after  vomiting  blood  at  length  came  to. 

Mrs.  'Coleman  floated  nearly  a  mile,  and  when  she 
reached  the  shore,  walked  down  the  path  to  Cincin 
nati,  crossed  Deer  creek  at  its  mouth,  holding  on  to 
the  willows  which  overhung  its  banks — the  water  there 
in  those  days  flowing  in  a  narrow  current  that  might 
almost  be  cleared  by  a  spring  from  one  bank  to  the 
other.  She  went  direct  to  Captain  Thorp,  at  the  ar 
tificer's  yard,  with  whose  lady  she  was  acquainted, 
and  from  whom  she  obtained  a  change  of  clothes,  and 
rested  a  day  or  two  to  recover  from  her  fatigue.  Mrs. 
Coleman  died  a  few  years  since,  at  a  very  advanced 
age,  at  Versailles,  Ripley  county,  Indiana. 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING. 

IN  February,  1790,  a  Mr.  John  May,  surveyor  of 
the  Kentucky  lands,  determined  to  proceed  from  Vir 
ginia  to  his  field  of  labor  by  descending  the  Great 
Kenawha  and  the  Ohio.  He  was  accompanied  by  a 
young  clerk,  named  Charles  Johnson ;  Mr.  Jacob 
Skyles,  who  had  a  lot  of  dry  goods  intended  for  Lex 
ington  ;  a  hardy  borderer  named  Flinn ;  and  two 
sisters,  named  Fleming,  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
the  dangers  of  a  frontier  life. 

During  their  short  stay  at  Point  Pleasant,  they 
learned  that  roving  bands  of  Indians  were  constantly 
hovering  upon  either  bank  of  the  Ohio,  and  were  in 
the  habit  of  decoying  boats  ashore  under  various  pre 
tences,  and  murdering  or  taking  captives,  all  who  were 
on  board,  so  that,  upon  leaving  Point  Pleasant,  they 
determined  that  no  considerations  should  induce  them 
to  approach  either  shore,  but  steeling  their  hearts 
against  every  entreaty,  that  they  would  resolutely  keep 
the  middle  of  the  current,  and  leave  distressed  indivi 
duals  to  shift  for  themselves.  How  firmly  this  reso- 
8  (85) 


86  HEEOIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

lution  was  maintained  the  sequel  will  show.  The  spring 
freshet  was  in  its  height  at  the  time  of  their  embarka 
tion,  and  their  boat  was  wafted  rapidly  down  the  stream. 
There  was  no  occasion  to  use  the  side  oars,  and  it  was 
only  necessary  for  one  individual  at  a  time  to  watch 
throughout  the  night,  at  the  steering  oar,  in  order  to 
keep  the  boat  in  the  current.  So  long  as  this  could 
be  done,  they  entertained  no  dread  of  any  number  of 
Indians  on  either  shore,  as  boarding  had  hitherto 
formed  no  part  of  their  plans,  and  was  supposed  to  be 
impracticable,  so  long  as  arms  were  on  board  of  the 
boat. 

On  the  morning  of  the  20th  of  March,  when  near 
the  junction  of  the  Scioto,  they  were  awakened  at  day 
light  by  Flinn,  whose  turn  it  was  to  watch,  and  in 
formed  that  danger  was  at  hand.  All  sprung  to  their 
feet,  and  hastened  upon  deck  without  removing  their 
night  caps  or  completing  their  dress.  The  cause  of 
Flinn's  alarm  was  quickly  evident.  Far  down  the 
river  a  smoke  was  seen,  ascending  in  thick  wreaths 
above  the  trees,  and  floating  in  thinner  masses  over 
the  bed  of  the  river.  All  at  once  perceived  that  it 
could  only  proceed  from  a  large  fire — and  who  was 
there  to  kindle  a  fire  in  the  wilderness  which  surrounded 
them  ?  No  one  doubted  that  Indians  were  in  front, 
and  the  only  question  to  be  decided  was,  upon  which 
shore  they  lay,  for  the  winding  of  the  river,  and  their 
distance  from  the  smoke,  rendered  it  impossible  at  first 
to  ascertain  this  point.  As  the  boat  drifted  on,  how 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  87 

ever,  it  became  evident  that  the  fire  was  upon  the  Ohio 
shore,  and  it  was  determined  to  put  over  to  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  river.  Before  this  could  be  done,  how 
ever,  two  white  men  ran  down  upon  the  beach,  and 
clasping  their  hands  in  the  most  earnest  manner,  im 
plored  the  crew  to  take  them  on  board.  They  declared 
that  they  had  been  taken  by  a  party  of  Indians  in 
Kennedy's  bottom  a  few  days  before — had  been  con 
ducted  across  the  Ohio,  and  had  just  effected  their  es 
cape.  They  added,  that  the  enemy  was  in  close  pur 
suit  of  them,  and  that  their  death  was  certain,  unless 
admitted  on  board.  Resolute  in  their  purpose,  on  no 
account  to  leave  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  strongly 
suspecting  the  suppliants  of  treachery,  the  party  paid 
no  attention  to  their  entreaties,  but  steadily  pursued 
their  course  down  the  river,  and  were  soon  considerably 
ahead  of  them.  The  two  white  men  ran  down  the  bank 
in  a  line  parallel  with  the  course  of  the  boat,  and  their 
entreaties  were  changed  into  the  most  piercing  cries 
and  lamentations  upon  perceiving  the  obstinacy  with 
which  their  request  was  disregarded.  The  obduracy 
of  the  crew  soon  began  to  relax.  *  Flinn  and  the  two 
females,  accustomed  from  their  youth  to  undervalue 
danger  from  the  Indians,  earnestly  insisted  upon  going 
ashore,  and  relieving  the  white  men,  and  even  the  in 
credulity  of  May  began  to  yield  to  the  persevering 
importunity  of  the  suppliants. 

A  parley  took  place.     May  called  them  from  the 
leek  of  the  boat  wliere  he  stood  in  his  night-cap  and 


88  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

drawers,  and  demanded  the  cause  of  the  large  fire 
and  smoke  of  which  had  caused  so  much  alarm.  The 
white  men  positively  denied  that  there  was  any  fire 
near  them.  The  falsehood  was  so  palpable,  that  May's 
former  suspicion  returned  with  additional  force,  and 
he  positively  insisted  upon  continuing  their  course 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  the  request 
of  the  men.  This  resolution  was  firmly  seconded  by 
Johnston  and  Skyles,  and  as  vehemently  opposed  by 
Flinn  and  Miss  Flemings,  for,  the  females  were  allowed 
an  equal  vote  with  the  males  on  board  of  the  boat. 
Flinn  urged  that  the  men  gave  every  evidence  of  real 
distress  which  could  be  required,  and  recounted  too 
many  particular  circumstances  attending  their  capture 
and  escape,  to  give  color  to  the  suspicion  that  their 
story  was  invented  for  the  occasion,  and  added,  that 
it  would  be  a  burning  shame  to  them  and  theirs  for 
ever,  if  they  should  permit  two  countrymen  to  fall  a 
secrifice  to  the  savages  when  so  slight  a  risk  on  their 
part  would  suffice  to  relieve  them.  He  acknowledged 
that  they  had  lied  in  relation  to  the  fire,  but  declared 
himself  satisfied  that  it  was  only  because  they  were  fear 
ful  of  acknowledging  the  truth,  least  the  crew  should 
suspect  that  Indians  were  concealed  in  the  vicinity. 
The  controversy  became  warm,  and  during  its  progress, 
the  boat  drifted  so  far  below  the,  men,  that  they 
appeared  to  relinquish  their  pursuit  in  despair. 

Flinn  then  made  a  second  proposal,  which,  according 
to  his  method  of  reasoning,  could  be  carried  into  effect 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  89 

without  the  slightest  risk  to  any  one  but  himself.  They 
were  now  more  than  a  mile  below  the  pursuers.  He 
proposed  th&t  May  should  only  touch  the  hostile  shore 
long  enough  to  permit  him  to  jump  out.  That  it  was 
impossible  for  Indians,  (even  admitting  that  they  were 
at  hand,)  to  arrive  in  time  to  arrest  the  boat,  and  even 
should  any  appear,  they  could  immediately  put  off  from 
shore  and  abandon  him  to  his  fate.  That  he  was  con 
fident  of  being  able  to  outrun  the  red  devils,  if  they 
saw  him  first,  and  was  equally  confident  of  being  able 
to  see  them  as  soon  as  they  could  see  him.  May  re 
monstrated  upon  so  unnecessary  an  exposure — but 
Flinn  was  inflexible,  and  in  an  evil  hour,  the  boat  was 
directed  to  the  shore.  They  quickly  discovered,  what 
ought  to  have  been  known  before,  that  they  could  not 
float  as  swiftly  after  leaving  the  current  as  while  borne 
along  by  it,  and  they  were  nearly  double  the  time  in 
making  the  shore,  that  they  had  calculated  upon.  When 
within  reach  Flinn  leaped  fearlessly  upon  the  hostile 
bank,  and  the  boat  grated  upon  the  sand.  At  that 
moment,  five  or  six  savages,  ran  up  out  of  breath,  from 
the  adjoining  wood,  and  seizing  Flinn,  began  to  fire 
upon  the  boat's  crew.  Johnston  and  Skyles  sprang  to 
their  arms,  in  order  to  return  the  fire,  while  May, 
seizing  an  oar  attempted  to  regain  the  current.  Fresh 
Indians  arrived,  however,  in  such  rapid  succession,  that 
the  beach  was  quickly  crowded  by  them,  and  May  called 
out  to  his  companions  to  cease  firing  and  come  to  the 
oars*  This  was  done,  but  it  was  too  late. 

8* 


,90  HEROIC  WOMEN  0?  TUE  WEST. 

The  river,  as  we  have  already  observed,  was  very 
high,  and  their  clumsy  and  unwieldy  boat,  had  be 
come  entangled  in  the  boughs  of  the  trees  which  hung 
over  the  water,  so  that  after  the  most  desperate  efforts 
to  get  her  off,  they  were  compelled  to  relinquish  the 
attempt  in  despair.  During  the  whole  of  this  time 
the  Indians  were  pouring  a  heavy  fire  into  the  boat,  at 
a  distance  not  exceeding  ten  paces.  Their  horses,  of 
which  they  had  a  great  number  on  board,  had  broken 
their  halters,  and  mad  with  terror  were  plunging  so 
furiously  as  to  expose  them  to  danger  scarcely  less 
dreadful  than  that  which  menaced  them  from  shore. 
In  addition  to  this,  none  of  them  had,  ever  beheld  a 
hostile  Indian  before,  (with  the  exception  of  May,)  and 
the  furious  gestures  and  appalling  yells  of  the  enemy, 
struck  a  terror  in  their  hearts  which  had  almost  de 
prived  them  of  their  faculties.  Seeing  it  impossible 
to  extricate  themselves,  they  all  lay  down  upon  their 
faces,  in  such  parts  of  the  boat,  as  would  best  protect 
them  from  the  horses,  and  awaited  in  passive  helpless 
ness,  the  approach  of  the  conquerors.  The  enemy, 
however,  still  declined  boarding,  and  contented  them- 
•selves  with  pouring  in  an  incessant  fire,  by  which  all 
the  horses  were  killed,  and  which  at  length  began  to 
grow  fatal  to  the  crew.  One  of  the  females  received 
a  ball  in  her  mouth,  which  had  passed  immediately 
over  Johnston's  head,  and  almost  immediately  expired. 
Skyles,  immediately  afterwards,  was  severely  wounded 
in  both  shoulders,  the  ball  striking  the  right  shoulder 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  91 

blade,  and  ranging  transversely  along  his  back.  The 
fire  seemed  to  grow  hotter  every  moment,  when,  at 
length  May  arose  waved  his  night-cap  above  his  head 
as  a  signal  of  surrender.  He  instantly  received  a  ball 
in  the  middle  of  the  forehead  and  fell  perfectly  dead 
by  the  side  of  Johnston,  covering  him  with  blood. 

Now,  at  last,  the  enemy  ventured  to  board.-  Throwing 
themselves  into  the  water,  with  their  tomahawks  in 
their  hands,  a  dozen  or  twenty  swam  to  the  boat,  and 
began  to  climb  the  sides.  Johnston  stood  ready  to  do 
the  honors  of  the  boat,  and  presenting  his  hand  to  each 
Indian  in  succession,  he  helped  them  over  the  side  to 
the  number  of  twenty.  Nothing  could  appear  more 
cordial  than  the  meeting.  Each  Indian  shook  him  by 
the  hand,  with  the  usual  salutation  of  "  How  de  do?" 
in  passable  English,  whilst  Johnston  encountered  every 
visiter  with  an  affectionate  squeeze,  and  a  forced  smile, 
in  which  terror  struggled  with  civility.  The  Indians 
then  passed  on  to  Skyles  and  the  surviving  Miss  Flem 
ing,  where  the  demonstrations  of  mutual  joy  were  not 
quite  so  lively.  Skyles  was  writhing  under  a  painful 
wound,  and  the  girl  was  sitting  by  the  dead  body  of 
her  sister.  Having  shaken  hands  with  all  their  cap- 
tivee,  the  Indians  proceeded  to  scalp  the  dead,  which 
was  done  with  great  coolness,  and  the  reeking  scalps 
were  stretched  and  prepared  for  the  usual  process  of 
drying,  immediately  before  the  eyes  of  the  survivors. 
The  boat  was  then  drawn  ashore,  and  its  contents  ex> 
aminod  with  great  greediness.  Poor,  Skyles,  in  addi- 


92  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

tion  to  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  was  compelled  to  witness 
the  total  destruction  of  his  property,  by  the  hands  of 
these  greedy  spoilers,  who  tossed  his  silks,  cambric, 
and  broadcloth  into  the  dirt,  with  the  most  reckless 
indifference.  At  length  they  stumbled  upon  a  keg  of 
whiskey.  The  prize  was  eagerly  seized,  and  every 
thing  else  abandoned.  The  Indian  who  had  found  it, 
carried  it  ashore  and  was  followed  by  the  rest  with 
tumultuous  delight.  A  large  fire  nearly  fifty  feet  long 
was  kindled,  and  victors  and  vanquished  indiscrimi 
nately  huddled  around  it, 

The  two  white  men  who  had  decoyed  them  ashore, 
and  whose  names  were  Divine  and  Thomas,  now  ap 
peared  and  took  their  seats  beside  the  captives.  Sen 
sible  ., of  the  reproach  to  which  they  had  exposed  them 
selves,  they  hastened  to  offer  an  excuse  for  their  con 
duct.  They  declared  that  they  really  had  been  taken 
in  Kennedy's  bottom  a  few  days  before,  and  that  the 
Indians  had  compelled  them,  by  threats  of  instant 
death  in  case  of  refusal,  to  act  as  they  had  done. 
They  concluded  by  some  common  place  expressions  of 
regret  for  the  calamity  which  they  had  occasioned, 
and  declared  that  their  own  misery  was  aggravated 
at  beholding  that  of  their  countrymen !  In  short, 
words  were  cheap  with  them,  and  they  showered  them 
out  in  profusion.  But  Johnston  and  Skyles's  sufferings 
had  been  and  still  were  too  severe,  to  permit  their  re 
sentment  to  be  appeased  by  such  light  atonement, 
Their  suspicions  of  the  existence  of  wilful  and  malig 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  93 

nant  treachery  on  the  part  of  the  white  men,  at  least 
one  of  them,  were  confirmed  by  the  report  of  a  negro, 
who  quickly  made  his  appearance,  and  who,  as  it  ap 
peared,  had  been  taken  in  Kentucky  a  few  days  be* 
fore.  He  declared  that  Thomas  had  been  extremely 
averse  to  having  any  share  in  the  treachery,  but  had 
been  overruled  by  Divine,  who  alone  had  planned,  and 
was  most  active  in  the  execution  of  the  project,  hav 
ing  received  a  promise  from  the  Indians,  that,  in  case 
of  success,  his  own  liberty  should  be  restored  to  him. 

In  a  few  minutes,  six  squaws,  most  of  them  very 
old,  together  with  two  white  children,  a  girl  and  a 
boy,  came  down  to  the  fire,  and  seated  themselves. 
Tvie  children  had  lately  been  taken  from  Kentucky. 
Skyles's  wound  now  became  excessively  painful,  and 
Flinn,  who,  in  the  course  of  his  adventurous  life,  had 
picked  up  some  knowledge  of  surgery,  was  permitted 
to  examine  it.  He  soon  found  it  necessary  to  make 
an  incision,  which  was  done  very  neatly  with  a  razor. 
An  old  squaw  then  washed  the  wound,  and  having 
caught  the  bloody  water  in  a  tin  cup,  presented  it  to 
Skyles,  and  requested  him  to  drink  it,  assuring  him 
that  it  would  greatly  hasten  the  cure.  He  thought  it 
most  prudent  to  comply. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  the  Indians  remained 
silently  smoking  or  lounging  around  the  fire.  No  sen 
tinels  were  posted  in  order  to  prevent  a  surprise,  but 
each  man's  gun  stood  immediately  behind  him,  with 
the  breech  resting  upon  the  ground,  and  the  barrel 


94  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

supported  against  a  small  pole,  placed  horizontally 
upon  two  forks.  Upon  the  slightest  alarm,  every  man 
could  have  laid  his  hand  upon  his  own  gun.  Their 
captors  were  composed  of  small  detachments  from 
several  tribes.  Much  the  greater  portion  belonged  to 
the  Shawanese,  but  there  were  several  Delawares, 
Wyandottes,  and  a  few  wandering  Cherokees. 

After  smoking,  they  proceeded  to  the  division  of 
of  their  prisoners.  Flinn  was  given  to  a  Shawanese 
warrior — Skyles  to  an  old,  crabbed,  ferocious  Indian 
of  the  same  tribe,  whose  temper  was  sufficiently  ex 
pressed  in  his  countenance,  while  Johnston  was  assigned 
to  a  young  Shawanese  chief,  whom  he  represents  as 
possessed  of  a  disposition  which  would  have  done  him 
honor  in  any  age  or  in  any  nation.  The  surviving 
Miss  Fleming  was  given  to  the  Cherokees,  while  the 
Wyandottes  and  the  Delawares  were  allowed  no  share 
in  the  distribution. 

The  next  day,  the  Indians  attacked  the  boats,  and 
obtained  a  large  amount  of  booty.  Another  keg  of 
whiskey  was  found.  A  grand  drinking  frolic  was  then 
held,  during  which  the  prisoners  were  bound,  to  guard 
against  their  escape.  After  this  drunken  revel,  the 
march  commenced.  The  party  having  Flinn  in  charge, 
left  the  rest  of  the  band,  and  took  a  different  route. 
Leaving  the  male  prisoners  to  their  fate,  we  will  merely 
narrate  what  befell  Miss  Fleming. 

Johnston  had  been  much  surprised  at  the  levity  of 
her  conduct,  when  first  taken.  Instead  of  appearing 


THE  SISTEKS  FLEMING.  95 

dejected  at  the  dreadful  death  of  her  sister,  and  the 
still  more  terrible  fate  of  her  friends,  she  never  ap 
peared  more  lively  or  better  reconciled  to  her  fate  than 
while  her  captors  lingered  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ohio, 
Upon  the  breaking  up  of  the  party,  the  Cherokees 
conducted  their  prisoner  towards  the  Miami  villages, 
and  Johnston  saw  nothing  more  of  her  until  after  his 
own  liberation.  While  he  remained  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Duchouquet,  the  small  party  of  Cherokees  to  whom 
she  belonged  suddenly  made  their  appearance  in  the 
village  in  a  condition  so  tattered  and  dilapidated,  as  to 
satisfy  every  one  that  all  their  booty  had  been  wasted 
with  their  usual  improvidence.  Miss  Fleming's  appear 
ance,  particularly  k  had  been  entirely  changed.  All  the 
levity  which  had  astonished  Johnston  so  much  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  was  completely  gone.  Her  dress 
was  tattered,  her  cheeks  sunken,  her  eyes  discolored 
by  weeping,  and  her  whole  manner  expressive  of  the 
most  heartfelt  wretchedness.  Johnston  addressed  her 
with  kindness,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  so  great  a 
change,  but  she  only  replied  by  wringing  her  hands 
and  bursting  into  tears.  Her  master  quickly  summoned 
her  away,  and  on  the  morning  of  her  arrival  she  was 
compelled  to  leave  the  village,  and  accompany  them  to 
Lower  Sandusky.  Within  a  few  days,  Johnston,  in 
company  with  his  friend  Duchouquet,  followed  them  to 
that  place,  partly  upon  business,  and  partly  with  the 
hope  of  effecting  her  liberation.  He  found  the  town 
thronged  with  Indians  of  various  tribes,  and  there,  fof 


96  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  first  time,  he  learned  that  his  friend  Skyles  had 
effected  his  escape.  Upon  inquiring  for  the  Cherokees 
he  learned  that  they  were  encamped  with  their  prisoner 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  town,  holding  them 
selves  aloof  from  the  rest,  and  evincing  the  most  jealous 
watchfulness  over  their  prisoner. — Johnston  applied 
to  the  traders  of  Sandusky  for  their  good  offices,  and, 
as  usual,  the  request  was  promptly  complied  with. 
They  went  out  in  a  body  to  the  Cherokee  camp,  ac 
companied  by  a  white  man  named  Whittaker,  who  had 
been  taken  from  Virginia  when  a  child,  and  had  be 
come  completely  naturalized  among  the  Indians. — This 
Whittaker  was  personally  known  to  Miss  Fleming, 
having  often  visited  Pittsburg  where  her  father  kept  a 
small  tavern,  much  frequented  by  Indians  and  traders. 
As  soon  as  she  beheld  him,  therefore,  she  ran  up  to 
the  spot  where  he  stood,  and  bursting  into  tears,  im 
plored  him  to  save  her  from  the  cruel  fate  which  she 
had  no  doubt  awaited  her.  He  engaged  very  zealously 
in  her  service,  and  finding  that  all  the  offers  of  the 
traders  were  rejected  with  determined  obstinacy,  he 
returned  to  Detroit,  and  solicited  the  intercession  of 
an  old  chief  known  among  the  whites  by  the  name  of 
"  Old  King  Crane,"  assuring  him  (a  lie  which  we  can 
scarcely  blame)  that  the  woman  was  his  sister.  King 
Crane  listened  with  gravity  to  the  appeal  of  Whittaker, 
acknowledged  the  propriety  of  interfering  in  the  case 
of  so  near  a  relative,  and  very  calmly  walked  out  to 
the  Cherokee  camp,  in  order  to  try  the  efficacy  of  hia 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  97 

own  eloquence  in  behalf  of  the  white  squaw.  He  found 
her  master,  however,  perfectly  inexorable.  The  argu 
ment  gradually  waxed  warm,  till  at  length  the  Chero- 
kees  became  enraged,  and  told  the  old  man  that  it  waa 
a  disgrace  to  a  chief  like  him,  to  put  himself  upon  a 
level  with  "  white  people,"  and  that  they  looked  upon 
him  as  no  better  than  "  dirt." 

At  this  insupportable  insult,  King  Crane  became 
exasperated  in  turn,  and  a  very  edifying  scene  ensued, 
in  which  each  bespattered  the  other  with  a  profusion 
of  abuse  for  several  minutes,  until  the  Old  King  recol 
lected  himself  sufficently,  to  draw  off  for  the  present, 
and  concert  measures  for  obtaining  redress.  He  re 
turned  to  the  village  in  a  towering  passion,  and  an 
nounced  his  determination  to  collect  his  young  men  and 
rescue  the  white  squaw  by  force,  and  if  the  Cherokees 
dared  to  resist,  he  swore  that  he  would  take  their 
scalps  upon  the  spot.  Whittaker  applauded  his  doughty 
resolution,  but  warned  him  of  the  neceesity  of  dis 
patch,  as  the  Cherokees,  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  losing 
their  prisoner,  might  be  tempted  to  put  her  to  death 
without  further  delay.  This  advice  was  acknowledged 
to  be  of  weight,  and  before  daylight  on  the  following 
morning,  King  Crane  assembled  his  young  men,  and 
advanced  cautiously  upon  the  Cherokee  encampment. 
He  found  all  but  the  miserable  prisoner  buried  in  sleep. 
She  had  been  striped  naked,  her  body  painted  black, 
and  in  this  condition,  had  been  bound  to  a  stake,  around 
which  hickory  poles  had  already  been  collected,  and 
7 


98  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

every  other  disposition  made  for  burning  her  alive  at 
day-light.  She  was  moaning  in  a  low  tone  as  her  de 
liverers  approached,  and  was  so  much  exhausted  as 
not  to  be  aware  of  their  approach,  until  King  Crane 
had  actually  cut  the  cords  which  bound  her,  with  his 
knife. 

He  then  ordered  his  young  men  to  assist  her  in  putting 
on  her  clothes,  which  they  obeyed  with  the  most 
stoical  indifference.  As  soon  as  her  toilet  had  been 
completed,  the  King  awakened  her  masters,  and  in 
formed  them  that  the  squaw  was  his !  that  if  they  sub 
mitted  quietly  it  was  well ! — if  not,  his  young  men  and 
himself  were  ready  for  them.  The  Cherokees,  as  may 
readily  be  imagined,  protested  loudly  against  such 
unrighteous  proceedings,  but  what  could  words  avail 
against  tomahawks  and  superior  numbers?  They 
then  expressed  their  willingness  to  resign  the  squaw — 
but  hoped  that  King  Crane  would  not  be  such  a  "  beast" 
as  to  refuse  them  the  ransom  which  he  had  offered 
them  on  the  preceding  day !  The  king  replied  coolly, 
that  the  squaw  was  now  in  his  own  hands — and  would 
serve  them  right  if  he  refused  to  pay  a  single  broach — 
but  he  disdained  to  receive  any  thing  at  their  hands, 
without  paying  an  equivalent !  and  would  give  them 
six  hundred  broaches.  He  then  returned  to  Lower 
Sandusky,  accompanied  by  the  liberated  prisoner. 
She  was  then  painted  as  a  squaw  by  T^hittaker,  and 
sent  off,  under  the  care  of  two  trusty  Indians  to  Pitts- 


THE  SISTERS  FLEMING.  99 

burg,  where  she  arrived  in  safety  in  the  course  of  the 
following  week. 

Miss  Fleming  was  much  exhausted  by  her  sufferings 
in  the  trying  scenes  through  which  she  had  passed ; 
but  she  lived  at  Pittsburg  many  years  afterwards. 


MRS.  PAKKER  AND  DAUGHTER 

TUB  fcllomng  narrative,  told  by  an  old  pioneer, 
called  Tim  Watkins,  to  a  correspondent  of  the  "  Cin 
cinnati  Miscellany,"  contains  some  noble  instances  of 
female  extermination,  and  is  worthy  of  a  place  by  the 
side  of  tLt  best  of  those  stories  we  have  related.  On 
the  Illinois  river,  near  two  hundred  miles  from  its 
junction  with  the  Mississippi,  there  lived  an  old  pio 
neer,  known  in  those  days  as  "  Old  Parker,  the  squat 
ter."  His  family  consisted  of  a  wife  and  three  child 
ren,  the  oldest  a  boy  of  nineteen,  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
and  the  youngest  a  boy  of  fourteen.  At  the  time  of 
which  we  write,  Parker  and  his  oldest  boy  had  gone 
in  company  with  thvee  Indians  on  a  hunt,  expecting 
to  be  absent  some  live  or  six  days.  The  third  day 
after  their  departure,  one  of  the  Indians  returned  to 
Parker's  house,  came  in  and  sat  himself  down  by  the 
fire,  lit  his  pipe,  and  commenced  smoking  in  silence. 
Mrs.  Parker  thought  nothing  of  this,  as  it  was  no  un 
common  thing  for  one  or  sometimes  more  of  a  party 
of  Indians  to  return  abruptly  from  a  hunt,  at  some 
(100) 


MRS.  PARKER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

sign  they  might  consider  ominous  of  bad  luck,  and  in 
such  instances  were  not  very  communicative.  But  at 
last  the  Indian  broke  silence  with  "  ugh  !  old  Parker 
die."  This  exclamation  immediately  drew  Mrs.  Par 
ker's  attention,  who  directly  inquired  of  the  Indian, 
"What's  the  matter  with  Parker?" 

The  Indian  responded,  u  Parker  sick,  tree  fell  on 
him,  you  go  he  die." 

Mrs.  Parker  then  asked  the  Indian  if  Parker  sent 
for  her,  and  where  he  was. 

The  replies  of  the  Indian  somewhat  aroused  her 
suspicions.  She  however  came  to  the  conclusion  to 
send  her  son  with  the  Indian  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
The  boy  and  Indian  started.  That  night  passed,  and 
the  next  day  too,  and  neither  the  boy  nor  Indian  re 
turned.  This  confirmed  Mrs.  Parker  in  her  opinion 
that  there  was  foul  play  on  the  part  of  the  Indians. 
So  she  and  her  daughter  went  to  work  and  barricaded 
the  doors  and  windows  in  the  best  way  they  could. 
The  youngest  boy's  rifle  was  the  only  one  left,  he  not 
having  taken  it  with  him  when  he  went  out  after  his 
father.  The  old  lady  took  the  rifle,  the  daughter  the 
axe,  and  thus  armed  they  determined  to  watch  through 
the  night,  and  defend  themselves  if  any  Indians 
should  appear. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  after  night  fall,  for  soon 
after  that  some  one  commenced  knocking  at  the  door, 
crying  out,  "Mother,  mother!"  but  Mrs.  Parker 
thought  the  voice  was  not  exactly  like  that  of  her  son, 


102  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  in  order  to  ascertain  the  fact,  she  said,  "  Jake, 
where  are  the  Indians  ?"  The  reply,  which  was  "  um 
gone,"  satisfied  her  on  that  point.  She  then  said,  as 
if  speaking  to  her  son,  "  Put  your  ear  to  the  latch- 
hole  of  the  door."  The  head  was  placed  at  the  latch- 
hole,  and  the  old  lady  fired  her  rifle  throught  it  and 
killed  the  Indian.  She  stepped  back  from  the  door 
instantly,  and  it  was  well  she  did  so,  for  quicker  than 
I  have  penned  the  last  two  words,  two  rifle-bullets 
came  crashing  through  the  door. 

The  old  lady  then  said  to  her  daughter,  "  Thank 
God,  there  is  but  two,  I  must  have  killed  the  one  at 
the  door — they  must  be  the  three  who  went  on  the 
hunt  with  your  father.  If  we  can  only  kill  or  cripple 
another  one  of  them,  we  will  be  safe ;  now  we  must 
both  be  still  after  they  fire  again,  and  they  will  then 
break  the  door  down,  and  I  may  be  able  to  shoot 
another  one ;  but  if  I  miss  them  when  getting  in  you 
must  use  the  axe." 

The  daughter,  equally  courageous  with  her  mother, 
assured  her  she  would.  Soon  after  this  conversation 
two  more  rifle  bullets  came  crashing  through  the  win 
dow.  A  death-like  stillness  ensued  for  about  five  mi 
nutes,  when  two  more  Balls  in  quick  succession  were 
fired  through  the  door,  then  followed  a  tremendous 
punching  with  a  log,  the  door  gave  way,  and  with  a 
fiendish  yell,  an  Indian  was  about  to  spring  in  when 
the  unerring  rifle  fired  by  the  gallant  old  lady  laid 
his  lifeless  bodv  across  the  threshold  of  the  door.  The 


•     MRS.  PARKER  AND  DAUGHTER.  103 

remaining,  or  more  properly  the  surviving,  Indian 
fired  at  random  and  ran  doing  no  injury.  "Now" 
said  the  old  heroine  to  her  undaunted  daughter  "  we 
must  leave."  Accordingly  with  the  rille  and  the  axe, 
they  went  to  the  river,  took  the  canoe,  and  without  a 
mouthful  of  provision,  except  one  wild  duck  and  two 
black  birds  which  the  mother  shot,  and  which  were  eaten 
raw,  did  these  two  courageous  hearts  in  six  days  arrive 
among  the  old  French  settlers  at  St.  Louis.  A  party 
of  about  a  dozen  men  crossed  over  Illinois — and  after 
an  unsuccessful  search  returned  without  finding  either 
Parker  or  his  boys.  They  were  never  found.  There 
are  yet  some  of  the  old  settlers  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Peoria  who  still  point  out  the  spot  where  "  old 
Parker,  the  squatter"  lived. 


EXPERIENCE  BOZAETH. 

THE  courage  and  prowess  of  a  -woman  in  defence  of 
herself  and  family  were  never  more  gloriously  dis 
played  than  by  Mrs.  Experience  Bozarth.  This  lady 
lived  upon  Dunkard's  creek,  in  Westmoreland  county, 
Pennsylvania.  About  the  middle  of  March,  1779, 
when  the  neighboring  country  was  infested  with  war 
like  Indians,  two  or  three  families  gathered  at  Mrs. 
Bozarth's  house  for  safety.  Soon  afterwards,  some 
of  the  children  came  running  in  from  play,  appearing 
very  much  frightened,  and  exclaiming  that  ugly  red 
men  were  near  the  house.  There  were  but  two  men 
in  the  house.  One  of  them  stepped  to  the  door,  where 
he  received  a  ball  in  tie  side  of  hia  breast,  which 
caused  him  to  fall  back  upon  the  floor.  The  Indian 
who  had  shot  him  immediately  jumped  over  the  body 
and  engaged  in  a  struggle  with  the  other  white  man. 
The  savage  was  overpowered,  and  his 
(104) 


EXPERIENCE  BOZARTH.  105 

tossing  him  on  the  bed,  called  for  a  knife  to  dispatch 
him.  Mrs.  Bozarth  had  retained  her  presence  of 
mind,  and  was  now  prepared  for  the  most  desperate 
defence.  Not  being  able  to  find  a  knife,  she  seized 
an  axe,  and  with  one  blow  clove  in  the  Indian's  skull. 
At  that  instant  a  second  Indian  entered  the  door,  and 
shot  the  white  man  dead,  who  was  holding  the  Indian 
on  the  bed.  Mrs.  Bozarth,  with  unflinching  boldness, 
turned  to  this  new  foe,  and  gave  him  several  cuts  with 
the  axe,  one  of  which  made  his  entrails  appear.  He 
called  out  murder,  whereupon,  other  Indians  who  had 
been  killing  some  children  out  of  doors,  came  rushing 
to  his  relief.  The  head  of  one  of  these  was  cut  in 
twain  by  the  axe  of  Mrs.  Bozarth.  Another  Indian 
snatched  him  by  the  feet  and  pulled  him  out  of  doors, 
when  Mrs.  Bozarth,  with  the  assistance  of  the  man 
who  was  first  shot  in  the  door,  and  who  had  by  this 
time  recovered  some  degree  of  self-command,  shut  the 
door  and  fastened  it. 

The  Indians,  rendered  furious  by  the  desperate  re 
sistance  they  had  met,  now  besieged  the  house,  and 
for  several  days,  they  employed  all  their  arts  to  enter 
and  slay  the  weak  garrison.  But  all  their  efforts  were 
futile.  Mrs.  Bozarth  and  her  wounded  companion, 
employed  themselves  so  vigorously  and  vigilantly, 
tfrat  the  enemy  were  completely  baffled.  During  the 
siege,  the  dead  Indian  and  the  dead  white  man  re 
mained  in  the  house. 

At  length,  a  party  of  white  men  arrived,  put  tht 


106  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Indians  to  flight,  and  relieved  Mrs.  Bozarth  from  her 
perilous  situation.  Many  were  the  encomiums  lavished 
upon  the  heroic  woman,  who  had  made  such  a  noble 
defence  of  her  home ;  and,  indeed,  it  may  be  ques 
tioned  whether  any  female  ever  displayed  more  courage 
and  prowess  in  combat  against  superior  numbers. 


A  HEKOINE  WITHOUT  A  NAME. 

VAST  is  the  catalogue  of  names,  fame  gives  to  the 
world  as  great  and  good — heroes  and  heroines.  But, 
•we  believe,  the  unrecorded  great  are  still  more  nu 
merous.  Sometimes  there  is  a  want  of  a  timely  his 
torian.  Often,  modest  merit  seeks  concealment,  and 
so  is  forgotten,  amid  the  trumpetings  of  noisy  fools. 
Again,  as  in  the  present  instance,  "  a  deed  without 
a  name,"  is  handed  down  to  us,  as  an  example,  with 
no  claimant  for  admiration. 

In  1786,  an  incident  happened  upon  Green  river, 
Kentucky,  which  not  only  illustrates  the  dangers  which 
beset  the  pioneers  of  that  period,  but  also  the  nobility 
of  woman.  About  twenty  young  persons,  male  and 
female,  of  a  fort,  had  united  in  a  flax  pulling,  in  one 
of  the  most  distant  fields.  In  the  course  of  the  fore 
noon  two  of  their  mothers  made  them  a  visit,  and  the 
younger  took  along  her  child,  about  eighteen  months 
old.  When  the  whole  party  were  near  the  woods,  one 
of  the  young  women  climbed  over  the  fence,  was  fired 
upon  by  several  Indians  concealed  in  the  bushes,  who 

(10T) 


108  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

at  the  same  time  raised  the  usual  war-whoop.  She 
was  wounded,  but  retreated,  as  did  the  whole  party; 
some  running  with  her  down  the  lane,  which  happened 
to  open  near  that  point,  and  others  across  the  field. 
They  were  hotly  pursued  by  the  enemy,  who  con 
tinued  to  yell  and  fire  upon  them. 

The  older  of  the  two  mothers  who  had  gone  out, 
recollecting  in  her  flight,  that  the  younger,  a  small  and 
feeble  woman  was  burdened  with  her  child,  turned 
back  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  they  firing  and  yelling 
hideously,  took  the  child  from  its  almost  exhausted 
mother,  and  ran  with  it  to  the  fort,  a  distance  of  three 
hundred  yards.  During  the  chase  she  was  twice  shot 
at  with  rifles,  when  the  enemy  were  so  near  that  the 
powder  burned  her,  and  one  arrow  passed  through  her 
sleeve,  but  she  escaped  uninjured.  The  young  woman 
who  was  wounded,  almost  reached  the  place  of  safety 
when  she  sunk,  and  her  pursuer,  who  had  the  hardi 
hood  to  attempt  to  scalp  her,  was  killed  by  a  bullet  from 
the  fort. 


MRS.  RUHAMA  BUILDBEBACK. 

THE  fortitude  to  suffer  is  as  noble  as  the  courage  to 
dare.  Perhaps,  patient  endurance  is  rarer  than  bold 
adventure.  Mrs.  Ruhama  Builderback,  the  heroine 
of  the  following  sketch,  possessed  that  steady  firm 
ness  under  suffering,  which  is  the  chief  distinction  of 
the  martyr. 

She  was  born  and  raised  in  Jefferson  county,  Vir 
ginia,  In  1785,  she  married  a  Mr.  Charles  Builder- 
back,  and  with  him  crossed  the  mountains  and  settled 
at  the  mouth  of  Short  creek,  on  the  east  bank  of  the 
Ohio,  a  few  miles  above  Wheeling.  Her  husband  a 
brave  man,  had  on  many  occasions  distinguished  him 
self  in  repelling  the  Indians,  who  had  often  felt  the  sure 
aim  of  his  unerring  rifle.  They  therefore  determined 
at  all  hazards  to  kill  him. 

On  a  beautiful  summer  morning  in  June,  1789,  at  a 
time  when  it  was  thought  the  enemy  had  abandoned 
the  western  shores  of  the  Ohio,  Captain  Charles  Buil 
derback,  his  wife  and  brother,  Jacob  Builderback, 
crossed  the  Ohio  to  look  after  some  cattle.  On  reaching 

(109) 


110  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

• 

the  shore,  a  party  of  fifteen  or  twenty  Indians  rushed 
out  from  an  ambush,  and  firing  upon  them,  wounded 
Jacob  in  the  shoulder.  Charles  was  taken  while  he  was 
running  to  escape.  Jacob  returned  to  the  canoe  and 
got  away.  In  the  mean  time,  Mrs.  Builderback  secreted 
herself  in  some  drift-wood,  near  the  bank  of  the  river. 
As  soon  as  the  Indians  had  secured  and  tied  her  hus 
band,  and  not  being  able  to  discover  her  hiding-place, 
they  compelled  him,  with  threats  of  immediate  death, 
to  call  her  to  him.  With  a  hope  of  appeasing  their 
fury,  he  did  so.  She  heard  him,  but  made  no  answer. 
"  Here,"  to  use  her  own  words,  "  a  struggle  took  place 
in  my  breast,  which  I  cannot  describe.  Shall  I  go  to 
him  and  become  a  prisoner,  or  shall  I  remain,  return 
to  our  cabin  and  provide  for  and  take  care  of  our  two 
children."  He  shouted  to  her  a  second  time  to  come 
to  him,  saying,  "  that  if  she  obeyed,  perhaps  it  would 
be  the  means  of  saving  his  life."  She  no  longer  hesi 
tated,  left  her  place  of  safety,  and  surrendered  her 
self  to  her  savage  captors.  All  this  took  place  in  full 
view  of  their  cabin,  on  the  opposite  shore,  and  where 
they  had  left  their  two  children,  one  a  son  about  three 
years  old,  and  an  infant  daughter.  The  Indians  know 
ing  that  they  would  be  pursued  as  soon  as  the  news 
of  their  visit  reached  the  stockade,  at  Wheeling,  com 
menced  their  retreat.  Mrs.  Builderback  and  her 
husband  travelled  together  that  day  and  the  following 
night.  The  next  morning,  the  Indians  separated  into 
two  parties,  one  taking  Builderback,  and  the  other  hig 


MRS.  RUHAMA  BUILDERBACK.  Ill 

wife,  and  continued  a  westward  course  by  different 
routes. 

In  a  few  days,  the  band  having  Mrs.  Builderback 
in  custody,  reached  the  Tuscarawas  river,  where  they 
encamped,  and  where  soon  rejoined  by  the  band  that 
had  had  her  husband  in  charge.  Here  the  murderers 
exhibited  his  scalp  on  the  top  of  a  pole,  and  to  con 
vince  her  that  they  had  killed  him,  pulled  it  down  and 
threw  it  into  her  lap.  She  recognised  it  at  once  by 
the  redness  of  his  hair.  She  said  nothing,  and  uttered 
no  complaint.  It  was  evening ;  her  ears  pained  with 
the  terrific  yells  of  the  savages,  and  wearied  by  con 
stant  travelling,  she  reclined  against  a  tree  and  fell 
into  a  profound  sleep,  and  forgot  all  her  sufferings 
until  morning.  When  she  awoke,  the  scalp  of  her 
murdered  husband  was  gone,  and  she  never  learned 
what  became  of  it.  Her  husband  commanded  a  com 
pany  at  Crawford's  defeat.  He  was  a  large,  noble 
looking  man,  and  a  bold  and  intrepid  warrior.  He 
was  in  the  bloody  Moravian  campaign,  and  took  his 
share  in  the  tragedy,  by  shedding  the  first  blood  on 
that  occasion,  when  he  shot,  tomahawked,  and  scalped 
Shebosh,  a  Moravian  chief.  But  retributive  justice 
was  meted  to  him.  After  being  taken  prisoner,  the 
Indians  inquired  his  name.  "  Charles  Builderback," 
replied  he,  after  some  little  pause.  After  this  reve 
lation,  the  Indians  stared  at  each  other  with  a  malig 
nant  triumph.  "Ha!"  said  they,  "you  kill  many 
Indians  —  you  big  captain  —  you  kill  Moravians.' 


112  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

from  that  moment,  probably,  Captain  Builderback'a 
death  was  decreed. 

As  soon  as  the  capture  of  Builderback  was  known, 
at  Wheeling,  a  party  of  scouts  set  off  in  pursuit,  and 
taking  the  trail  of  one  of  the  bands,  followed  it  until 
they  found  the  body  of  Builderback.  He  had  been 
tomahawked  and  scalped,  and  apparently  suffered  a 
lingering  death. 

The  Indians,  on  reaching  their  towns  on  the  Big 
Miami,  adopted  Mrs.  Builderback  into  a  family,  with 
whom  she  resided  until  released  from  captivity.  She 
remained  a  prisoner  about  nine  months,  performing 
the  labor  an ir*  drudgery  of  squaws,  such  as  carrying 
in  meat  from  the  hunting-grounds,  preparing  and  dry 
ing  it,  making  moccasins,  leggings  and  other  clothing 
for  the  family  in  which  she  was  raised.  After  her 
adoption,  she  suffered  much  from  the  rough  arid  filthy 
manner  of  Indian  living. 

In  a  few  months  after  her  capture,  some  friendly 
Indians  informed  the  commandant  at  Fort  Washington, 
that  there  was  a  white  woman  in  captivity  at  the 
Miami  towns.  She  was  ransomed  and  brought  in  to  th« 
fort,  and  in  a  few  weeks  was  sent  up  the  river  to  her 
lonely  cabin,  and  to  the  embrace  of  her  two  orphan 
children.  She  then  recrossed  the  mountains,  and 
settled  in  her  native  county. 

In  1791,  Mrs.  Builderback  married  Mr.  John  Green, 
and  in  1798,  they  emigrated  to  the  Hockhocking 
valley,  and  settled  about  three  miles  west  of  Lancaster 


MRS.  RUHAMA  BUILDEBBACK.  118 

where  she  continued  to  reside  until  the  time  of  her 
death,  about  the  year  1842. 

She  lived  to  witness  the  settlement  of  the  vast  wil 
derness,  where  her  husband  had  fought  and  she  had 
suffered ;  and  until  her  death  had  maintained  a  high 
character  among  the  mothers  of  the  west. 


THE  WIDOW  SCRAGGS. 

IN  the  following  account  of  an  attack  upon  the 
house  of  an  old  widow,  we  have,  two  instances  of  fe 
male  heroism,  which  are  worthy  of  preservation.  The 
presence  of  mind  displayed  by  the  old  lady  was  admi 
rable,  and  but  for  the  destruction  of  the  house,  might 
have  saved  the  family,  while  the  desperate,  defence 
made  by  one  of  her  daughters,  with  a  nmre  knife, 
showed  an  uncommon  degice  of  resolution. 

The  house  of  widow  Scraggs,  in  Bourbon  county, 
Kentucky,  was  attacked  on  the  night  of  the  llth  of 
April,  1787.  She  occupied  what  is  generally  called  a 
double  cabin,  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  county,  one  room 
of  which  was  tenanted  by  the  old  lady  herself,  together 
with  two  grown  sons,  and  a  widowed  daughter,  at  that 
time  suckling  an  infant,  while  the  other  was  occupied 
by  two  unmarried  daughters  from  sixteen  to  twenty 
years  of  age,  together  with  a  little  girl  not  more  than 
half  grown.  The  hour  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night. 
One  of  the  unmarried  daughters  was  still  busily 
engaged  at  the  loom,  but  the  other  members  of*  the 
(114) 


THE  WIDOW  SCRAGGS.  115 

family,  with  the  exception  of  one  of  the  sons,  had 
retired  to  rest.  Some  symptoms  of  an  alarming  nature 
had  engaged  the  attention  of  the  young  man  for  an 
hour  before  any  thing  of  a  decided  character  took 
place. 

The  cry  of  owls  was  heard  in  the  adjoining  wood, 
answering  each'  other  in-  rather  an  unusual  manner. 
The  horses,  which  were  inclosed  as  usual  in  a  pound 
near  the  house,  were  more  than  commonly  excited, 
and  by  repeated  snorting  and  galloping,  announced 
the  presence  of  terror.  The  young  man  was  often  upon 
the  point  of  awaking  his  brother,  but  was  often  re 
strained  by  the  fear  of  the  reproach  of  timidity,  at 
that  time  an  unpardonable  blemish  in  the  character  of 
a  Kentuckian.  At  length  hasty  steps  were  heard  in 
the  yard,  and  quickly  afterwards,  several  loud  knocks 
at  the  door,  accompanied  by  the  usual  exclamation, 
"who  keeps  house?"  in  very  good  English.  The 
young  man,  supposing  from  the  language,  that  some 
benighted  settlers  were  at  the  door,  hastly  arose,  and 
was  advancing  to  withdraw  the  bar  which  secured  it, 
when  his  mother  who  had  long  lived  upon  the  frontiers, 
and  had  probably  detected  the  Indian  tone  in  the  de 
mand  for  admission,  instantly  sprung  out  of  bed,  and 
ordered  her  son  not  to  admit  them,  declaring  that  they 
were  Indians. 

She  instantly  awakened  her  other  son,  and  the  two 
young  men  seizing  their  guns,  which  were  always 
charged  to  repel  the  enemy.  The  Indians  finding  it 


116  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

impossible  to  enter  under  their  assumed  characters, 
began  to  thunder  at  the  door  with  great  violence,  but 
a  single  shot  from  a  loop  hole,  cempelled  them  to  shift 
the  attack  to  some  less  exposed  point;  and,  unfor 
tunately,  they  discovered  the  door  of  the  other  cabin, 
which  contained  the  three  daughters.  The  rifles  of 
the  brothers  could  not  be  brought  to  bear  upon  this 
point,  and  by  means  of  several  rails  taken  from  the 
yard  fence,  the  door  was  forced  from  its  hinges,  and 
the  three  girls  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  savages. 
One  was  instantly  secured,  but  the  eldest  defended 
herself  desperately  with  a  knife  which  she  had  been 
using  at  the  loom,  and  stabbed  one  of  the  Indians  to 
the  heart,  before  she  was  tomahawked. 

In  the  mean  time  the  little  girl,  who  had  been  over 
looked  by  the  enemy  in  their  eagerness  to  secure  the 
others,  ran  out  into  the  yard,  and  might  have  effected 
her  escape,  had  she  taken  advantage  of  the  darkness 
and  fled,  but  instead  of  that  the  terrified  little  creature 
ran  around  the  house  wringing  her  hands,  and  crying 
out  her  sisters  were  killed.  The  brothers,  unable  to 
hear  her  cries,  without  risking  every  thing  for  her 
rescue,  rushed  to  the  door  and  were  preparing  to 
sally  out  to  her  assistance,  when  their  mother  threw 
herself  before  them  and  calmly  declared  that  the  child 
must  be  abandoned  to  its  fate ;  that  the  sally  would 
sacrifice  the  lives  of  all  the  rest  without  the  slightest 
benefit  to  the  little  girl.  Just  then  the  child  uttered 
a  loud  scream,  followed  by  a  few  faint  moans  and  all 


THE  WIDOW  SCRAGGS.  117 

was  again  silent.  Presently  the  crackling  of  flames 
was  heard,  accompanied  by  a  triumphant  yell  from 
the  Indians,  announcing  that  they  had  set  fire  to  that 
division  of  the  house  which  had  been  occupied  by 
the  daughters,  and  of  which  they  held  undisputed 
possession. 

The  fire  was  quickly  communicated  to  the  rest  of 
the  building,  and  it  became  necessary  to  abandon  it 
or  perish  in  the  flames.  In  the  one  case  there  was  a 
possibility  that  some  might  escape,  in  the  other  their 
fate  would  be  equally  certain  and  terrible.  The  rapid 
approach  of  the  flames  cut  short  their  momentary  sus 
pense.  The  door  was  thrown  open,  and  the  old  lady, 
supported  by  her  eldest  son,  attempted  to  cross  the 
fence  at  one  point,  while  her  daughter  carrying  her 
child  in  her  arms,  and  attended  by  the  younger  of 
the  brothers,  ran  in  a  different  direction.  The  blazing 
roof  shed  a  light  over  the  yard  but  little  inferior  to 
that  of  day,  and  the  savages  were  distinctly  seen 
awaiting  the  approach  of  their  victims.  The  old  lady 
was  permitted  to  reach  the  stile  unmolested,  but  in 
the  act  of  crossing,  received  several  balls  in  her  breast 
and  fell  dead.  Her  son,  fortunately, "remained  unhurt, 
and  by  extraordinary  agility,  effected  his  escape. 

The  other  party  succeeded  also  in  reaching  the 
fence  unhurt,  but  in  the  act  of  crossing  was  vigorously 
assailed  by  several  Indians,  who  throwing  down  their 
guns,  rushed  upon  them  with  their  tomahawks.  The 
young  man  defended  his  sister  gallantly,  firing  upon 


118  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  enemy  as  they  approached,  and  then  wielding  the 
butt  of  his  rifle  with  a  fury  that  drew  their  whole  at 
tention  upon  himself,  and  gave  his  sister  an  oppor 
tunity  of  effecting  her  escape.  He  quickly  fell,  how 
ever,  under  the  tomahawks  of  his  enemies,  and  wa3 
found  at  day  light,  scalped  and  mangled  in  a  shock 
ing  manner.  Of  the  whole  family,  consisting  of  eight 
persons,  when  the  attack  commenced,  only  three  es 
caped.  Four  were  killed  upon  the  spot,  and  one  (the 
second  daughter)  carried  off  as  a  prisoner. 

The  neighborhood  was  quickly  alarmed,  and  by 
daylight,  about  thirty  men  were  assembled  under  the 
command  of  Colonel  Edwards.  A  light  snow  had  fallen 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  night,  and  the  Indian 
trail  could  be  pursued  at  a  gallop.  It  led  directly  into 
the  mountainous  country  bordering  upon  Licking,  and 
afforded  evidences  of  great  hurry  and  precipitation  on 
the  part  of  the  fugitives.  Unfortunately,  a  hound  had 
been  permitted  to  accompany  the  whites,  and  as  the 
trial  became  fresh  and  the  scent  warm,  she  followed 
it  with  eagerness,  baying  loudly  and  giving  the  alarm 
to  the  Indians.  The  consequences  of  this  imprudence 
were  soon  displayed.  The  enemy  finding  the  pursuit 
keen,  and  perceiving  that  the  strength  of  the  prisoner 
began  to  fail,  instantly  sunk  their  tomahawks  in  her 
head  and  left  her  still  warm  and  bleeding  upon  the 
snow. 

As  the  whites  came  up,  she  retained  strength 
enough  to  wave  her  hand  in  token  of  recognition,  and 


THE  WIDOW  SCRAGGS.  11.9 

appeared  desirous  of  giving  them  some  information, 
•with  regard  to  the  enemy,  but  her  strength  was  too 
far  gone.  Her  brother  sprung  from  his  horse  and 
knelt  by  her  side,  endeavoring  to  stop  the  effusion  of 
blood,  but  in  vain.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  muttered 
some  inarticulate  words,  and  expired  within  two  mi 
nutes  of  the  arrival  of  the  party.  The  pursuit  was 
renewed,  and  in  twenty  minutes  the  enemy  was  in 
view.  They  had  taken  possession  of  a  steep,  narrow 
ridge,  and.  endeavored  to  magnify  their  numbers  by 
rapidly  passing  from  tree  to  tree,  and  yelling  in  ap 
palling  tones.  The  pursuers,  however,  were  satisfied 
that  the  enemy  were  inferior  in  number  to  themselves, 
and  dismounting  from  their  horses,  rapidly  ascended 
the  ridge.  The  firing  soon  commenced,  when  they 
discovered  that  only  two  Indians  were  opposed  to 
them.  They  had  voluntarily  sacrificed  themselves 
for  the  safety  of  the  main  body,  and  had  succeeded 
in  delaying  pursuit  until  their  friends  could  reach  the 
mountains.  One  of  them  was  instantly  shot  dead, 
and  the  other  was  badly  wounded,  as  was  evident  from 
the  blood  which  filled  his  tracks  in  the  snow.  The 
pursuit  was  recommenced,  until  night,  when  the  trail 
entered  a  running  stream  and  was  lost.  On  the  fol 
lowing  morning  the  snow  had  melted,  and  every  trac« 
of  the  enemy  was  obliterated. 


MRS.  WOODS. 

AMONG  the  many  instances  of  women  successfully 
defending  their  homes  in  the  absence  of  their  husbands, 
the  achievement  of  Mrs.  Woods  deserves  to  be  remem 
bered.  This  woman  resided  in  a  cabin  near  the  Crab 
Orchard,  Lincoln  county,  Kentucky.  Early  one  morn 
ing,  sometime  in  the  year  1784,  Mr.  Woods  being  ab 
sent  from  home,  and  Mrs.  Woods  a  short  distance  from 
the  cabin,  she  discovered  several  Indians  advancing 
towards  it.  She  ran  towards  the  cabin,  and  reached- 
the  door  before  all  the  Indians  but  one,  who  pursued 
BO  closely,  that  before  she  could  secure  the  door,  he 
entered.  A  lame  negro  in  the  cabin  instantly  seized 
the  savage,  and,  after  a  short  scuffle,  they  both  fell — 
the  negro  underneath.  The  resolute  black  fellow  held 
his  antagonist  so  tightly  that  he  could  not  use  his 
knife.  Mrs.  Woods  then  seized  an  axe  from  under 
the  bed,  and,  at  the  request  of  the  negro,  struck  the 
savage  upon  the  head.  The  first  blow  was  not  fatal : 
but  the  second  scattered  the  brains  of  the  Indian 
around  the  cabin.  In  the  meantime,  the  other  Indians 
(120) 


MRS.    WOODS.  121 

vrere  at  the  door  endeavoring  to  force  it  open  with 
their  tomahawks.  The  negro  arose,  and  proposed  to 
Mrs.  Woods  to  let  another  Indian  enter,  and  they 
could  soon  dispatch  him.  In  this  way  they  could  have 
disposed  of  the  whole  party.  But  this  was  rendered 
unnecessary.  The  cabin  was  but  a  short  distance  from 
a  station,  the  occupants  of  which,  having  discovered 
the  perilous  situation  of  the  Woods  family,  fired  on 
the  Indians,  killed  one,  and  put  the  others  to  flight. 

Throughout  this  trying  time,  Mrs.  Woods  behaved 
with  the  courage  and  devotion  of  a  lioness  defending 
her  offspring.  Had  she  not  retained  her  presence  of 
mind,  and  aided  the  efforts  of  the  brave  negro,  a  scene 
of  massacre  and  desolation  would  have  followed  the 
appearance  of  the  savages. 


THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN 
AND  HER  FAMILY. 

THE  following  romantic  and  interesting  narrative 
is  copied  from  the  Whig  Review. 

From  the  year  of  1780  to  1790,  many  of  the  best 
families  of  the  Carolinas,  Georgia,  and  Virginia,  sought 
homes  beyond  the  mountains.  Many  of  them,  patriotic 
republicans,  who  had  sacrified  every  thing  for  their 
country,  in  the  struggle  for  independence,  and  hoped 
to  have  found,  in  the  secluded  vales  and  thick  forests 
of  the  west,  that  peace  and  quiet  which  they  had  not 
found  amid  the  din  of  civil  and  foreign  war,  soon  ex 
perienced  all  the  horrors  of  a  savage,  marauding, 
guerilla  warfare,  which  swept  away  their  property, 
and  deprived  them  of  their  wives  and  children,  either 
by  a  barbarous  death,  o**  not  less  agonizing  slavery 
as  captives,  dragged  into  the  wild  recesses  of  the 
Indian  borders. 

Many  fearful  tales  of  these  bloody  scenes,  which 
would  illustrate  the  early  history  of  Tennessee,  are 
only  known  to  a  few,  as  family  traditions,  and  even 
(122) 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILf.    123 

among  the  descendants  of  the  sufferers,  are  only  re 
membered  as  stories  of  the  nursery,  and  not  as  chap 
ters  of  the  great  historic  record  of  the  past.  "  It  is 
not  always,"  says  Pluturch,  "  in  the  most  distinguished 
achievements  that  man's  virtues  or  vices  may  be  best 
discerned ;  but  often  an  action  of  small  note,  or  short 
saying,  or  a  jest,  shall  distinguish  a  person's  real 
character  more  than  the  greatest  sieges  or  the  most 
important  battles."  And  so  it  is,  in  some  sort,  with 
the  history  of  a  people  or  a  nation.  The  experiences, 
the  sufferings,  and  conduct  of  a  single  individual  of  a 
community,  may  better  illustrate  the  condition,  pro 
gress,  or  character  of  the  people,  than  whole  chapters 
devoted  to  a  campaign. 

In  this  point  of  view,  the  traditional  recollections 
which  are  detailed  in  the  following  sketch  of  the  fa 
mily  of  James  Brown,  connected  as  they  were,  so  inti 
mately  with  some  of  the  most  important  political 
events  of  that  period,  cannot  fail  to  throw  new  light 
upon  the  pioneer  history  of  the  country,  and  inspire 
our  hearts  with  renewed  gratitude  to  those  hardy,  but 
wise  men  and  women,  who  built  up  so  goodly  a  state, 
amid  so  many  troubles,  in  the  dark  and  bloody  valleys 
of  the  Shanvanon,  Tanasees,  and  Ho-go-hegee. 

The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  born  in  Pennsylvania, 
about  the  year  1740.  Her  father  was  a  pioneer  in 
the  settlement  of  North  Carolina.  Her  family  was 
one  of  the  most  respectable,  as  well  as  the  most  worthy, 
in  the  county  of  Guilford,  where  they  resided  during 


124  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  revolutionary  war.  Two  of  her  brothers,  Colonei 
and  Major  Gillespie,  where  distinguished  for  theif 
gallantry  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and 
were  honored  as  brave  officers.  Herself  and  most  of 
her  family  were  members  of  the  Rev.  David  Caldwell's 
church  at  Guilford,  and  ardently  espoused  both  his 
political  and  religious  principles. 

About  1761  or  1762,  Miss  Gillespie  became  the 
wife  of  James  Brown,  a  native  of  Ireland,  whose  fa 
mily  settled  in  Guilford  some  years  before.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  revolution,  Mrs.  Brown  had  a  large 
family  of  small  children,  but  she  freely  gave  up  her 
husband  when  his  country  demanded  his  services. 
During  the  masterly  retreat  of  General  Greene,  in  the 
winter  of  1781,  on  Dan  and  Deep  rivers,  Mr.  Brown 
was  the  pilot  and  guide  of  Colonels  Lee  and  Washing 
ton,  and,  by  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  country, 
its  by-paths  and  fords,  contributed  not  a  little  to  the 
successful  counter-marches  of  the  American  army,  by 
which  they  were  enabled  to  elude  and  break  the  spirit 
of  the  army  under  Lord  Cornwallis.  When  the  Ame 
rican  army  assumed  the  offensive,  and,  from  a  retreat 
ing,  suddenly  became  a  pursuing  army,  Brown  pressed 
eagerly  into  the  fight  with  the  bold  troopers  of  Lee 
and  Washington. 

Being  in  moderate  circumstances,  and  pressed  by 
the  cares  of  a  large  and  increasing  family,  Brown's 
ardent  temperament  was  not  satisfied  with  the  pros 
pect  of  a  plodding  life  of  toil  in  Guilford.  For  his 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    125 

revolutionary  services  he  had  received  from  the  state 
of  North  Carolina^  land- warrants,  which  entitled  him 
to  locate  a  large  quantity  of  lands  in  the  wilderness 
beyond  the  mountains.  His  neighbors  had  honored 
him  as  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  and  as  a  justice  of 
the  county  court,  and  he  was  rapidly  rising  in  the 
estimation  of  his  countrymen,  for  his  patriotism,  integ 
rity,  and  many  other  virtues  of  a  good  citizen.  But 
he  readily  saw  the  advantages  which  he  might  secure 
to  his  rising  family  by  striking  out  into  the  deep  fo 
rests,  and  securing  for  them  the  choicest  homes  in 
the  Cumberland  valleys.  He  could  command  only  a 
trifle  in  money  for  his  land-script,  but  by  exposing 
himself  to  a  few  years  of  hardship  and  danger,  he 
could  secure  independent  estates  for  his  numerous 
children.  With  him  it  was  but  to  think  and  to  act ; 
his  decision  and  his  action  went  together.  Tearing 
himself  from  the  bosom  of  his  family,  and  all  the  en 
dearments  of  a  happy  home  circle,  he  set  out  on  his 
journey  to  explore  the  valley  of  the  Cumberland. 

The  whole  of  Tennessee  was  then  a  wilderness,  ex 
cept  a  small  spot  on  the  Holston  and  Watauga,  on  the 
east,  and  a  small  spot  around  Nashville  and  Bledsoe's 
Lick,  on  the  west  of  the  Cumberland  mountains. 
Taking  with  him  his  two  oldest  sons,  William  and 
John,  and  a  few  tried  friends,  he  explored  the  Cum 
berland  valley.  He  secured  lands  on  the  Cumberland 
river  below  Nashville,  at  the  place  now  known  aa 
Hyde's  Ferry.  He  also  explored  the  wilderness  south, 


126  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

as  far  as  Duck  river,  and  located  a  large  body  of  land 
south  of  Duck  river,  near  Columbia.  The  whole 
country  was  then  almost  untrod  by  the  foot  of  the 
white  man.  It  was  the  hunting-ground  of  the  Chica- 
saws,  Creeks,  and  Cherokees,  and  was  full  of  deer, 
bear,  and  buffaloes.  The  rich  uplands,  as  well  as  the 
alluvial  bottoms  of  the  rivers,  were  covered  with  cane- 
brakes,  which  were  almost  impervious  to  man.  Who 
ever  penetrated  these  regions,  did  so  with  knife  and 
hatchet  to  cut  away  the  cane,  and  with  rifle  to  oppose 
the  savage  beasts  and  savage  men  who  swarmed 
through  its  deep  fastnesses.  But  Brown's  heart  waa 
a  bold  one,  and  his  hopes  for  the  future  animated 
his  perseverance.  Having  located  by  actual  survey, 
several  fine  tracts  of  land,  he  determined  to  return  to 
Guilford  and  remove  his  family  to  their  new  home  in 
the  west.  Leaving  William  as  a  deputy  surveyor 
under  Colonel  Polk,  and  John  to  open  and  cultivate 
a  small  field,  and  build  some  cabins  at  the  mouth  of 
White's  creek,  he  returned  to  North  Carolina. 

In  the  winter  of  1787-88,  Brown  and  his  family, 
having  disposed  of  their  property,  found  themselves 
on  the  banks  of  the  French  Broad,  in  what  is  now 
Hawkins  county,  Tennessee,  waiting  the  opening  of 
the  spring,  before  beginning  their  journey  across  the 
mountains  to  the  Cumberland  valley. 

In  1785,  the  treaty  of  Hopewell  had  been  concluded 
with  the  Cherokees,  guaranteeing  reciprocal  friend 
ship  between  that  nation  and  the  Americans.  At  the 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HEK  FAMILY.    127 

time  Brown  arrived  on  the  banks  of  the  French  Broad, 
there  was  apparent  acquiesence  in  the  terms  of  thia 
treaty,  and  the  Cherokee  and  the  white  man  seemed, 
for  a  time,  to  have  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace,  and  buried 
the  tomahawk  for  ever. 

There  were  two  routes  to  the  Cumberland  valley  at 
this  time :  the  one  was  by  land,  the  other  by  water. 
The  land  route  was  a  long  and  tedious  one ;  through 
the  Cumberland  Gap,  across  the  head-waters  of  the 
Cumberland,  Green,  and  Barren  rivers,  in  Kentucky, 
to  Bledsoe's  Lick,  or  Nashville.  The  other  route  was 
easier  of  accomplishment,  and  more  desirable ;  because, 
being  by  the  descent  of  the  river,  it  admitted  of  the 
transportation  of  goods  and  aged  persons.  Brown,  on 
his  recent  visit  to  Cumberland,  had  heard  of  Colonel 
Donaldson's  voyage  down  the  Tennessee,  up  the  Ohio 
and  Cumberland,  to  Nashville,  and  of  one  or  two  other 
parties  who  had  succeeded  in  making  the  same  voyage. 
As  he  had  women  and  small  children,  and  packages 
of  goods,  which  he  was  taking  to  the  West,  he  resolved 
to  hazard  the  descent  of  the  Tennessee  river. 

He  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  there  were  many 
populous  Indian  towns  on  the  Tennessee  river,  of  both 
the  Cherokee  and  Chickasaw  nations,  and  that  ma 
rauding  parties  of  Creeks  and  Shawanese  were  often 
on  its  shores  and  towns.  He  knew  the  danger  of  the 
voyage,  on  account  of  the  hostile  Indians  who  might 
be  encountered  on  its  waters  or  its  shores  ;  and  he  also 
knew  its  numerous  shoals,  rapids,  and  eddies,  rendered 


128  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

its  navigation  perilous  to  such  frail  open  boats  as  could 
then  be  constructed.  But  he  confided  in  the  honest 
disposition  of  the  Cherokees  to  conform  to  the  treaty 
of  Hopewell,  and  felt  that  the  marauding  Creeks  and 
Shawanese  would  prove  less  dangerous  on  the  water 
ehan  on  the  circuitous  land  route  to  the  Cumberland. 
Having  been  habitually  exposed  to. danger  for  many 
years,  it  is  probable  he  rather  sought  the  most  perilous 
and  dangerous  route,  feeling  a  sort  of  manly  desire  to 
meet  and  overcome  it. 

Having  built  a  boat,  after  the  style  of  a  common 
flatboat,  modeled  as  much  as  possible  after  the  style 
of  Noah's  ark,  (except  that  it  was  open  at  the  top,)  he 
prepared  to  venture  the  fearful  voyage.  About  the 
1st  of  May,  1788,  having  on  board  a  large  amount  of 
goods  suitable  for  traffic  among  the  Indians  and  the 
pioneers  in  Cumberland,  his  party  embarked  upon  the 
bosom  of  French  Broad.  The  party  was  a  small  and 
weak  one,  considering  the  dangers  it  had  to  encounter, 
and  the  valuable  cargo  it  had  to  defend.  It  consisted 
of  Brown,  two  grown  sons,  three  hired  men  and  a  negro 
man,  in  all,  seven  grown  men ;  Mrs.  Brown,  three  small 
sons,  and  four  small  daughters ;  an  aged  woman,  the 
mother  of  one  of  the  hired  men,  and  two  or  three  negro 
women,  the  property  of  Brown. 

To  make  up  for  the  weakness  of  his  party,  Brown 
had  mounted  a  small  cannon  upon  the  prow  of  his 
boat,  and  no  doubt  relied  as  much  for  his  security 
upon  the  known  terror  which  such  guns  inspired  ir 


CAPTIVITY  OP  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    125* 

the  breasts  of  the  savages,  as  upon  any  damage  which 
he  expected  to  inflict  upon  them  with  it.  Thus  ap 
pointed,  and  thus  equipped,  this  happy  family  began 
its  eventful  descent  of  the  French  Broad  and  the 
Tennessee. 

All  was  gladness,  all  was  sunshine.  The  land  of 
their  fathers,  of  their  loving  friends  and  pastor,  was 
behind  them ;  beneath  their  oars  flashed  the  bright 
waters  of  a  lovely  stream,  whose  winding  channel 
would  soon  bear  them  to  the  enchanted  valley  of  the 
fair  Cumberland.  As  they  passed  rapidly  along  the 
current  which  was  to  bear  them  to  their  new  home, 
the  father  sat  in  the  midst  of  his  little  children,  hope 
fully  describing  their  new  home  in  the  deep  forests  of 
the  west. 

They  thus  descended  the  French  Broad  to  the  Ten 
nessee,  and  went  on  merrily  down  its  waters  to  the 
Chickamanga,  a  considerable  town  of  Cherokee  In 
dians,  situated  not  far  from  the  present  site  of  Chat 
tanooga.  Here  the  Indians  appeared  friendly ;  the 
principal  chief  went  on  board  the  boat,  and  made  in 
quiry  for  various  kinds  of  goods,  prepared  to  trade, 
and  finally  took  his  leave,  with  many  professions  of 
kindness.  Our  voyagers  continued  their  descent,  re 
joicing  in  the  happy  omen  which  the  friendship  of  the 
Chickamanga  chieftain  opened  for  their  future. 

The  next  day,  the  9th  of  May,  the  solitary  perogue 
or  flatboat  of  the  pioneer  Brown  had  passed  several 

Indian  villages,  and  had  come  in  view  of  the  towns  of 
9 


130  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Running  Water  and  Nickajack,  the  last.  Cherokee 
towns  where  there  was  any  considerable  body  of  In 
dians.  The  voyagers  began  to  rejoice  in  their  happy 
deliverance  from  the  principal  dangers  which  had 
threatened  their  journey.  They  would  in  a  few  hours 
be  through  the  passes  of  the  mountain,  on  the  wide 
bosom  of  a  noble  river,  where  they  would  be  compara 
tively  free  from  the  ambuscade  of  lurking  Indians. 

But  suddenly  four  canoes  with  white  flags  and  naked 
savages  kneeling  in  them  as  rowers,  glide  out  into  the 
river  and  rapidly  approach ;  fearing  some  mischief, 
Brown  immediately  turned  his  cannon  upon  the  ap 
proaching  canoes,  and,  with  the  lighted  match,  bade 
them  keep  off  at  the  peril  of  their  lives. 

Struck  with  astonishment  at  the  bold  threat,  they 
paused,  and  pulled  their  frail  canoes  a  little  out  of  range 
of  the  big  gun.  A  man  by  the  name  of  John  Vaun,  a 
well-known  half-breed,  who  spoke  good  English,  was 
the  leader  of  the  party,  but  he  was  unknown  to  Brown. 
Vaun  spoke  to  Brown,  and  said  that  his  party  came  in 
friendship ;  that,  as  an  evidence  of  that,  they  had  raised 
a  white  flag ;  that  they  came  as  his  friends  to  trade 
with  him.  Brown,  who  was  a  bold  and  fearless  man, 
and  dared  to  face  a  thousand  savages,  still  kept  them 
off;  but  at  last,  confiding  in  the  assurance  of  Vaun  that 
he  was  a  white  man,  and  that  the  Indians  would  respect 
the  persons  and  property  of  his  party,  in  an  unguarded 
moment  consented  that  a  part  of  the  Indians  might 
come  on  board.  A  dozen  Indians  now  came  on  board, 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  IIER  FAMILY.    131 

and  lashed  their  canoes  to  the  side  of  the  boat.  Aa 
they  came  near  the  town,  hundreds  of  Indians  dashed 
out  into  the  river  in  their  canoes,  and  came  along  side 
of  their  boat.  Having  thus  secured  possession  of  the 
boat,  the  leading  men,  more  especially  Vaun,  assured 
Brown  that  no  harm  was  intended.  In  the  meantime, 
each  Indian  seized  upon  whatever  he  fancied,  and 
threw  it  into  •  his  canoe.  In  this  way  several  boxes 
and  trunks  were  instantly  rifled.  Yaun  pretended  to 
order  his  fellows  to  abstain,  but  they  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  him.  A  bold  warrior  now  demanded  of  Brown 
the  key  of  a  large  chest,  which  contained  his  most 
valuable  stores,  which  he  refused  to  give,  telling  the 
Indians  that  Mrs.  Brown  had  it.  The  Indian  no^ 
demanded  it  of  Mrs.  Brown,  but  she  boldly  refused  to 
give  it  up. 

The  Indian  then  split  the  top  of  the  chest  open  with 
his  tomahawk,  and  his  example  was  immediately  fol 
lowed  by  the  other  Indians,  who  broke  open  and  rifled 
every  box  and  package  in  the  boat.  While  this  was 
going  on,  an  Indian  rudely  took  hold  of  Joseph  Brown, 
a  lad  fifteen  years  old,  and  the  old  man  seized  the 
Indian  and  forced  him  to  let  the  boy  go.  An  instant 
after,  the  Indian  seized  a  sword  which  was  lying  on 
the  boat,  and  while  old  Brown's  back  was  turned  to 
him,  struck  him  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  almost  se 
vering'  his  head  from  his  body.  Brown  turned  in  the 
agony  of  death  and  seized  the  Indian,  and  in  the 
struggle. was  thrown  overboard,  where  he  sank  to  rise 


132  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

no  more.  The  boat  was  now  turned  into  the  mouth 
of  a  little  creek,  in  the  town  of  Nickajaek,  and  the 
whole  party  taken  on  shore,  in  the  midst  of  several 
hundred  warriors,  women,  and  children.  In  the  mean 
time,  Yaun  continued  to  tell  the  sons  of  Brown  that 
all  this  was  a  violation  of  the  treaty  of  Hopewell,  and 
that  Breath,  who  was  the  chief  of  Nickajack  and  Run 
ning  Water,  who  was  expected  there  that  night,  would 
punish  the  marauders,  restore  their  goods,  and  send 
them  on  their  voyage.  But  at  this  very  moment,  se 
veral  leading  warriors  of  the  upper  towns  had  seized 
upon  Brown's  negroes  as  lawful  spoil,  and  had  dis 
patched  them  in  canoes  to  their  several  homes.  What- 
eVer  may  have  been  Vaun's  true  motives,  his  interfe 
rence  on  this  occasion  had  the  effect  to  place  the  whole 
party  at  the  mercy  of  the  Indians,  without  a  particle 
of  resistance.  If  he  acted  in  good  faith,  he  was  shame 
fully  deceived  by  his  followers ;  but  if  he  only  used 
his  address  to  disarm  the  voyagers,  that  they  might 
the  more  easily  fall  victims  to  savage  ferocity,  his  con 
duct  exhibits  the  climax  of  perfidy. 

A  party  of  Creek  braves,  who  were  engaged  with 
the  men  of  Nickajack  and  Running  Water  in  this  out 
rage,  having  seized  upon  their  share  of  the  plunder, 
and  having  taken  possession  of  Mrs.  Brown  and  her 
son  George,  ten  years,  old,  and  three  small  daughters, 
immediately  began  their  march  to  their  own  nation. 
While  the  Cherokees  were  deliberating  upon  the  fate 
of  the  prisoners  and  a  division  of  the  spoils,  they  adroitly 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    138  - 

withdrew  from  the  council,  on  the  plea  that  all  this 
belonged  to  the  head  men  of  Nickajack.  Thus,  in  one 
short  hour,  deprived  of  husband,  sons,  friends,  liberty, 
and  all,  this  devoted  woman,  with  her  five  smallest 
children,  began  her  sad  journey  on  foot,  along  the 
rugged,  flinty  trails  that  lead  to  the  Creek  towns,  on 
the  Tallapoosa  river. 

At  the  time  of  this  outrage,  there  was  living  at  or 
near  Nickajack,  a  French  trader,  named  Thomas  Tun- 
bridge,  who  was  married  to  a  white  woman,  who  had 
been  taken  prisoner  near  Mobile,  when  an  infant,  and 
raised  by  the  Indians.  After  she  was  grown,  she  was 
exchanged,  but  refused  to  leave  the  Indians,  distrust 
ing  her  abilities  to  adapt  her  habits  to  civilized  life. 
She  had  been  married  to  an  Indian  brave,  by  whom 
she  had  a  son,  now  twenty-one  years  old,  who  was  one 
of  the  boldest  warriors  of  the  Cherokee  towns.  He 
had  already  killed  six  white  men  in  his  forays  to  the 
Cumberland  settlement.  Having  all  the  versatility  of 
his  mother's  race,  as  well  as  the  ferocity  of  his  father, 
he  was  fast  rising  into  distinction  as  a  warrior,  and 
bade  fair  to  reach  the  first  honors  of  his  nation.  His 
praises  for  daring  and  chivalry  were  in  the  mouths 
of  all. 

His  mother  was  now  growing  old,  and  having  no 
young  children,  her  son  desire^d  to  present  to  her  some 
bright-eyed  boy  as  a  slave ;  for,  according  to  the  savage 
code  of  the  times,  each  captive  became  a  slave  to  it3 
captor.  This  woman's  son,  whose  name  was  Kiacha 


134  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

talee,  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  marauding  party 
who  had  seized  upon  Brown's  boat,  and  from  the  first 
knew  the  fate  of  the  party.  Before  the  boat  landed, 
lie  tried  to  induce  Joseph,  a  boy  then  fifteen  years  old, 
but  quite  small,  to  get  into  his  canoe,  with  the  inten 
tions  of  withdrawing  him  from  the  general  massacre, 
that  was  soon  to  take  place,  but  the  boy  would  not  go 
with  him.  When  the  boat  landed,  Kiachatalee  took 
Joseph  to  his  step-father,  Tunbridge,  who  in  good  En 
glish  told  the  boy  that  he  lived  a  mile  out  of  the  town, 
and  invited  him  to  go  and  spend  the  night  with  him. 
This  the  boy  did,  after  asking  the  consent  of  his  older 
brothers.  Tunbridge  seized  the  boy  by  the  hand  and 
hurried  him  away. 

They  had  scarcely  gone  out  of  the  town  before  they 
heard  the  rifles  of  the  savage  braves,  who  were  mur 
dering  his  brothers  and  friends.  What  were  the  feel 
ings  of  this  poor  boy  at  this  moment  ?  His  father 
slain  by  an  Indian  brave ;  his  brothers  and  friends 
weltering  in  their  blood,  amidst  the  yells  of  savage 
assassins;  and  his  mother  and  brother,  and  sisters 
borne  off,  he  knew  not  whither,  by  a  band  of  lawless 
Creek  marauders !  To  add  to  this  agony  at  such  a 
moment,  an  aged  Indian  woman,  with  hair  dishevelled, 
and  her  round,  fat  face  discolored,  with  excitement, 
followed  them  to  the  trader's  house,  calling  upon  Tun 
bridge  to  produce  the  white  man,  exclaiming  with  a 
fiendish  air  of  triumph,  "  All  the  rest  are  killed,  and 
he  must  die  also !" 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    135 

The  trader  calmly  replied  to  her,  "  He's  only  a  little 
boy.  It's  a  shame  to  kill  children.  He  shall  not  be 
killed." 

The  old  hag  was  excited,  and  vowed  that  the  boy 
should  be  killed.  She  said,  "  He  was  too  large  to  allow 
him  to  live.  In  two  or  three  years  he  would  be  a  man  ; 
he  would  learn  the  country,  its  towns  and  its  rivers  ; 
would  make  his  escape,  and  come  back  with  an  army 
of  white  men  to  destroy  us  all."  She  said  her  son, 
Cutty-a-toy,  was  a  brave  chief,  and  that  he  would  be 
there  in  a  few  minutes  to  kill  the  boy. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Cutty-a-toy,  followed  by  many 
armed  warriors,  rushed  upon  the  trader's  house,  and 
demanded  the  white  boy.  The  chief  said  the  boy  was 
too  large,  that  he  would  soon  be  grown,  would  make 
his  escape,  and  bring  back  an  army  to  destroy  their 
town. 

The  trader  stood,  with  cool  courage,  in  the  door  of 
his  lodge,  and  refused  to  surrender  the  prisoner,  saying 
it  was  not  right  to  kill  children,  and  also  warning  the 
angry  chief  that  the  boy  was  the  prisoner  of  Kiacha- 
talee,  his  son,  and,  if  he  was  injured  or  slain,  Kiacha- 
talee  would  be  revenged  for  it.  As  Kiachatalee  was 
only  a  young  warrior,  and  Cutty-a-toy  a  chief  and  a 
gray-beard,  this  threat  of  revenge  greatly  incensed 
him.  In  an  instant  he  raised  his  tomahawk,  and,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  intends  a  deed  of  murder,  de 
manded  of  the  trader,  "  And  are  you  the  friend  of  the 
Virginian  ?" 


136  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Answering  the  look  rather  than  the  words,  the  trader 
stepped  out  of  his  door,  and  said  to  the  bloody  brave, 
"Take  him." 

Cutt j-a-toy  then  rushed  into  the  trader's  lodge,  seized 
the  boy  by  the  throat,  and  was  about  to  brain  him  with 
his  tomahawk,  when  the  wife  of  Tunbridge  interposed, 
in  a  tone  of  supplication  which  at  once  succeeded. 

"  Will  the  brave  chieftain  kill  the  boy  in  my  house  ? 
Let  not  the  boy's  blood  stain  my  floor." 

The  appeal  of  the  woman  reached  the  savage's  heart. 
He  dropped  his  weapon  and  slowly  dragged  the  boy 
out  of  the  lodge  into  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  savages, 
who  waved  their  knives  and  hatchets  in  the  poor  boy's 
face,  in  order  to  enjoy  his  terror. 

In  the  path  which  led  from  the  house  the  boy  fell 
upon  his  knees  while  the  savages  were  tearing  off  his 
clothes,  and  asked  the  trader  to  request  the  savages  to 
give  him  one  half  hour  to  pray.  The  trader  roughly 
replied,  "  Boy  it's  not  worth  while  ;  they'll  kill  you." 
As  the  boy  stood  in  momentary  expectation  of  his  fate, 
the  trader's  wife  again  interposed,  and  begged  the 
savage  chief  not  to  kill  the  boy  in  her  yard,  or  in  the 
path  along  which  she  had  to  carry  water,  but  to  take 
him  out  in  the  mountains,  where  the  birds  and  wolves 
might  eat  up  his  flesh,  where  she  could  not  see  his 
blood !" 

The  appeal  of  the  woman  was  again  heard,  and 
giving  the  boy  his  pantaloons,  they  held  a  short  talk, 
and  agreed  to  take  the  boy  down  to  the  Running 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    131 

Water,  saying  to  the  trader's  wife,  "  We  will  not  spill 
this  boy's  blood  near  your  house ;  but  we  will  take 
him  to  the  Running  Water,  where  we  will  have  a 
frolic  knocking  him  in  the  head." 

Having  gone  about  three  hundred  yards,  they  halted 
and  formed  a  circle  around  the  boy,  and  with  their 
tomahawks  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  killing  him. 
The  boy  again  fell  upon  his  knees,  and,  with  his  face 
upturned  towards  heaven,  and  his  hands  firmly  clasped 
on  his  breast,  remained  in  prayer,  expecting  at  each 
moment  the  fatal  blow.  At  this  dreadful  moment  the 
boy  thought  of  Stephen,  to  whose  vision  the  heavens 
were  opened  at  the  moment  of  his  death  and  was 
happy.  As  the  savage  braves  stood  around  him,  young 
Brown  saw  their  stern  brows  of  revenge  suddenly  relax, 
and  a  smile  of  sympathy  and  pity  succeed.  They  called 
the  trader,  told  him  to  take  the  boy,  that  they  would 
not  kill  him ;  and  Cutty-a-toy  said  he  loved  the  boy 
and  would  come  back  in  three  weeks  and  make  friends 
with  him.  It  was  afterwards  ascertained  that  Cutty- 
a-toy  had  taken  some  of  Brown's  negroes,  and  claimed 
them  as  his  prisoners,  and  that  his  fear  lest  Kiacha- 
talee  might  retaliate  by  killing  his  negro  prisoners, 
was  the  thought  which  suddenly  turned  Cutty-a-toy  to 
mercy  and  pity.  So  thought  his  own  followers,  for 
when  he  said  he  loved  the  boy,  and  would  not  kill  him, 
his  savage  followers  replied : 

"No,  no,  he  does  not  love  the  boy;  it's  the  boy's 
negro  he  loves." 


138  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

When  Cutty-a-toy's  mother  saw  that  the  boy's  life 
would  not  be  taken,  she  seemed  displeased ;  went  up 
to  the  boy  and  cut  off  his  scalp-lock,  and  kicked  him 
so  rudely  in  the  side  as  almost  to  kill  him,  exclaiming, 
"I've  got  the  Virginian's  scalp." 

The  Tuskegee  chief,  Cutty-a-toy,  led  his  party  away 
leaving  the  boy  in  the  hands  of  the  trader  and  his  wife. 
In  two  or  three  days,  the  boy  was  taken  into  Nicka- 
jack,  and  the  kind  old  chief,  Breath,  who  greatly  re 
gretted  what  had  taken  place  in  his  absence,  took 
Joseph  by  the  hand,  calmly  heard  a  narrative  of  his 
situation  from  the  trader's  wife,  and  then  told  the  boy 
that  he  must  be  adopted  into  his  tribe,  and  become  an 
Indian,  if  he  would  save  his  life ;  that  there  was  no 
other  way  in  which  his  life  could  be  saved.  To  that 
end,  the  chief  adopted  him  into  his  own  family,  and 
told  Joseph  that  he  was  his  uncle,  and  that  Kiachatalee 
was  his  brother.  His  head  was  then  shaved,  leaving 
only  a  fillet  of  hair  on  the  top,  in  which  a  bunch  of 
feathers  was  tied,  his  ears  pierced  for  rings,  and  his 
clothes  taken  off ;  the  flap  substituted  for  trowsers,  and 
a  short  shirt  substituted  for  a  coat,  shirt,  and  vest,  and 
his  nether  vestments  consisting  of  a  pair  of  deer-skin 
moccasins.  In  this  condition  he  was  prpnounced  an 
Indian,  with  the  exception  of  a  slit  in  each  ear,  which 
the  kindness  of  the  chief  deferred  making  until  cold 
weather.  The  trader's  wife  took  him  to  see  his  two 
sisters,  Jane,  aged  ten,  and  Polly,  aged  five  years,  whc 
had  just  been  brought  back  to  Nickajack ;  a  party  of 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY. 

Cherokees  having  pursued  the  Creek  braves,  and  re 
captured  from  them  these  two  small  girls,  after  they 
had  been  taken  some  distance  towards  the  Creek  towns. 
From  his  sister  Jane,  Joseph  learned  the  destination 
of  the  party  who  had  carried  off  his  mother,  his  bro 
ther  George,  and  sister  Elizabeth.  These  children 
were  now  in  the  same  town,  adopted  into  different 
families,  and  -it  was  a  source  of  consolation  to  them 
to  be  allowed  to  see  each  other  occasionally.  In  the 
various  toils  which  were  imposed  upon  these  captive 
children,  such  as  carrying  water  and  wood,  pounding 
hominy,  and  working  corn  in  the  fields,  and,  on  the 
part  of  the  boy,  in  looking  after  the  stock,  nearly  a 
year  passed  off,  without  many  incidents  worthy  of 
note.  Hostile  parties  of  savages  came  and  went,  and 
tales  of  barbarous  deeds  done  by  them  on  the  distant 
frontiers  were  often  told  in  the  hearing  of  these  child 
ren,  but  none  of  them  brought  deliverance  for  them. 
Yet  in  but  few  instances  did  the  savage  neighbors  of 
these  captive  children  treat  them  unkindly.  Three  or 
four  times  the  boy's  life  was  in  danger  from  lawless 
braves,  whose  blood-thirsty  natures  panted  for  the 
blood  of  the  white  man.  The  good  old  chief,  Breath, 
hearing  of  these  things,  caused  young  Brown  to  be 
armed,  and  declared  it  should  be  lawful  for  him  to  slay 
any  Indian  who  should  mistreat  him. 

In  a  few  months  Joseph  was  allowed  a  rifle  and  a 
horse,  and  permitted  to  go  into  the  woods  to  hunt.  He 
might  often  have  availed  himself  of  the  kindness  of 


140  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

bis  savage  friends,  and  made  his  escape  to  the  frontiers, 
but  he  loved  his  little  sisters,  and  his  love  for  them 
restrained  his  desire  for  freedom,  least  his  escape 
might  add  to  the  rigors  of  their  slavery  or  perhaps  for 
ever  prevent  their  deliverance. 

In  the  meantime,  an  open  war  had  been  going  on 
between  the  Indians  and  the  people  of  Cumberland 
and  East  Tennessee.  Two  thousand  warriors,  prin 
cipally  Cherokees,  of  whom  four  or  five  hundred  were 
horsemen,  dressed  as  white  men,  made  an  irruption 
into  East  Tennessee,  killing  every  thing  before  them. 

During  this  invasion,  the  Indians,  sending  forward 
tfyeir  mounted  men,  dressed  as  white  men,  were  enabled 
to  surprise  many,  and  thus  to  make  a  havoc  which 
they  could  not  have  done  otherwise.  This  irruption 
of  the  Indians  was  caused,  they  alleged,  by  the  murder 
of  Tassel,  their  chief,  when  he  had  gone  under  a  white 
flag  to  General  Sevier,  to  hold  a  talk.  In  this  foray,  the 
Indians  took  Fort  Gillespie,  murdered  the  garrison, 
and  carried  off  Mrs.  Glass,  the  sister  of  Captain 
Gillespie. 

The  whole  country  was  aroused.  General  Joseph 
Martin  and  General  John  Sevier  headed  a  large  army, 
marched  into  the  Indian  nation,  burnt  their  towns, 
and  carried  off  their  women  and  children.  Amongst 
other  prisoners  taken  at  this  time,  was  the  daughter 
of  Turkey,  the  chief  of  the  Cherokees. 

In  the  spring  of  1789,  an  exchange  of  prisoners  was 
agreed  upon,  at  a  talk  held  with  General  >Sevier.  It 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    141 

ffas  agreed  that  the  Cherokees  should  make  an  abso 
lute  surrender  of  all  the  white  prisoners  within  their 
borders,  and  runners  were  sent  to  each  of  the  head 
men,  to  send  their  captives  to  the  Little  Turkey  for 
an  exchange.  When  these  runners  came  to  Nickajack, 
young  Brown  was  on  a  trading  trip  down  the  river 
with  his  Indian  brother,  Kiachatalee,  and  did  not  re 
turn  until  Mrs.  Glass  and  all  the  other  prisoners  had 
gone  up  to  Running  Water,  where  the  chief  was  await 
ing  their  arrival. 

When  young  Brown  got  home,  he  was  sent  with  one 
of  his  sisters  to  Running  Water,  in  order  to  be  sent 
up  to  the  treaty-grounds  to  be  exchanged.  His  little 
sister  would  not  leave  her  Indian  mother,  who  had 
ever  treated  her  kindly,  -but  wept  and  clung  to  her 
neck,  declaring  that  it  would  break  her  Indian  mo 
ther's  heart  if  she  left  her.  This  tender  feeling  was 
a  tril)8tri  ^o  savage  kindness  ;  but  young  Brown  finally 
took  hia  sister  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her  some  dis 
tance  before  he  could  reconcile  her  to  go  with  him. 
His  eldest  sister  belonged  to  a  trader,  who  said  he 
had  bought  her  with  his  money,  and  would  not  let  her 
go.  Young  Brown  had  to  leave  her  behind,  being 
wholly  unable  to  redeem  her. 

At  Running  Water,  young  Brown  heard  Turkey, 
the  head  chief,  stating  to  his  chiefs  around  him  the 
terms  of  the  treaty  he  had  made ;  and  in  doing  so, 
his  followers  upbraided  him  for  agreeing  to  delivei 
so  many  prisoners  without  any  ransom. 


142  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

To  this  the  chief  replied,  "  That  Little  John,  (Go, 
vernor  Sevier)  would  have  it  so ;  that  he  was  a  verj 
mean  man — a  dog ;  but  he  had  my  daughter  a  pri 
soner,  and  he  knew  I  would  have  to  agree  to  any 
terms,  to  get  her  back." 

The  next  morning,  when  the  Indian  chief  was  about 
to  start  his  prisoners  forward,  young  Brown  refused 
to  go,  and  was  taken  to  the  chief  to  give  his  reasons. 
He  then  stated  that  one  of  his  sisters  was  left  in  Nick- 
ajack,  and  that  he  never  would  consent  to  be  set  at 
liberty  without  his  sister.  The  savage  chief  imme 
diately  sent  for  the  girl,  and,  after  some  delay,  Co 
lonel  Bench,  the  chief  of  the  mounted  regimeirt  of 
Indians,  went  himself,  and  brought  the  girl  to  Running 
Water.  Thus,  about  the  1st  of  May,  1789,  young 
Brown  and  his  two  sisters  were  once  more  restored  to 
liberty.  Being  reduced  to  poverty,  these  now  orphan 
children  were  sent  into  South  Carolina,  to  sojourn 
with  some  relatives,  until  their  elder  brother,  who  was 
in  Cumberland,  could  go  after  them,  or  until  their 
mother  should  be  released  from  her  captivity  amongst 
the  Creeks. 

In  order  to  keep  up  the  thread  of  our  narrative,  we 
must  now  return  to  the  9th  of  May,  1788,  and  con 
tinue  the  narrative  of  Mrs.  Brown's  captivity.  Having 
seen  her  husband  fall  by  the  hands  of  the  savages,  she 
was  hurried  away  by  her  captors,  and  took  the  road 
southward,  just  as  she  heard  the  yells  and  rifles  of 
the  cruel  savages,  who  also  murdered  her  sons  and 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    143 

their  companions.  What  must  have  been  the  feelings 
of  horror  and  agony  of  this  poor  woman,  herself  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  she  knew  not  whom,  and 
borne  she  knew  not  whither  !  To  add  to  the  horror 
of  her  situation,  she  soon  saw  two  of  her  sweet  little 
daughters  torn  from  her  side  by  a  party  of  Cherokees, 
and  borne  back,  she  knew  not  whither,  nor  for  what 
purpose. 

Driven  forward  on  foot  for  many  days  and  nights, 
she  continued  to  bear  up  under  the  bodily  fatigues 
and  mental  anguish  by  which  she  was  tortured,  her 
feet  blistered  and  swollen,  and  driven  before  the  band 
along  a  flinty  path,  every  moment  expecting  death  if 
she  failed,  and  every  moment  expecting  to  fail !  She 
yet  accomplishes  many  days'  travel,  and  finally  reaches 
one  of  the  upper  Creek  towns,  on  the  Tallapoosa,  far 
down  in  the  wilderness,  the  prisoner  and  slave  of  a 
savage  brave.  Arrived  at  the  town  of  her  captor, 
she  finds  she  is  a  slave,  doomed  to  bear  wood  and 
water,  and  to  pound  hominy,  and  to  do  all  the  servile 
offices  of  her  savage  mistress.  To  add  to  her  distress, 
her  son,  nine  years  old,  and  her  daughter,  seven,  are 
taken  to  different  towns,  and  she  is  left  indeed  alone 
in  her  sorrow. 

At  the  period  of  Mrs.  Brown's  captivity,  Alexander 
M'Gillevray,  a  half-breed  Creek,  of  Scotch  descent, 
was  the  head  chief  of  the  Muscogee  Indians,  and  ac 
tually  assumed  the  high-sounding  title  of  comman der 
m-chief  of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Creeks  and  Semi 


1  44  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

noles  ;  being  the  military  as  well  as  the  civil  governor 
of  all  the  Indians  of  Florida,  Alabama,  and  Lower 
Georgia.  He  was  a  man  of  letters,  of  keen  sagacity, 
forest-born  and  forest-bred,  combining  the  shrewd 
ness  of  the  savage  with  the  learning  of  the  civilized 
man.  Fortunately  for  Mrs.  Brown,  her  cruel  captor 
took  her  to  a  town  in  which  lived  a  sister  of  M'Gille- 
vray,  who  was  the  wife  of  a  French  trader  by  the  name 
of  Durant.  Her  age  and  dignified  bearing  under  the 
toils  which  were  imposed  upon  her,  excited  the  sym 
pathy  and  compassion  of  this  kind-hearted  Indian  wo 
man.  Several  weeks  passed  before  she  found  an  oppor 
tunity,  but  when  Mrs.  Brown's  savage  master  was  ab 
sent,  the  wife  of  Durant  spoke  to  her  kindly,  told  her 
that  she  pitied  her  for  her  sorrow,  and  would,  if  she 
could,  relieve  her.  She  said  that  her  brother,  the  chief 
of  the  Creeks,  did  not  approve  of  his  people  making 
slaves  of  the  white  women  ;  and  that  he  was  a  liberal, 
high-minded  man,  who  had  a  soul  of  honor,  and  could 
never  turn  away  from  a  helpless  woman  who  flew  to 
him  for  succor.  "  Why  do  you  not  fly  to  him  ?"  asked 
the  simple-hearted  woman. 

Mrs.  Brown  explained  to  her  her  total  ignorance  of 
the  country,  and  her  inability  to  reach  the  residence 
of  Colonel  M'Gillevray.  The  Indian  woman  listened 
to  her,  and  then  said,  "  It  is  true  ;  but  if  you  will,  there 
is  my  horse,  and  there  is  my  saddle.  You  are  wel 
come  to  them ;  but  you  must  take  them.  I  cannot  give 
them,  but  my  husband  shall  never  pursue.  You  can 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    145 

take  them  without  danger."  It  was  arranged.  On  a 
certain  morning  the  Indian  woman  sent  an  aged  Indian 
to  a  trader's  house,  who  was  to  act  as  the  guide  of  Mrs. 
Brown  that  far,  and  from  that  point  the  trader  was  to 
procure  a  guide  and  a  horse. 

At  the  appointed  time,  Mrs.  Brown,  mounted  upon 
her  friend's  horse  and  saddle,  started  on  in  pursuit  of 
her  Indian  guide,  who  travelled  on  as  though  he  was 
entirely  unconscious  of  her  existence.  She  arrived  in 
safety  at  the  trader's  lodge,  and  was  by  him  furnished 
with  a  guide  and  horse  to  the  chieftain's  residence. 
Full  of  gratitude  for  intended  kindness,  yet  she  ap 
proached  the  Creek  chieftain  with  many  feelings  of 
doubt  and  misgiving.  He  received  her  kindly,  heard 
her  story  attentively,  and,  after  considering  it  well, 
gave  Mrs.  Brown  a  cordial  welcome  to  his  house,  and 
bade  her  stay  with  his  wife,  as  a  member  of  his  family, 
He  explained  to  her  that,  according  to  the  usage  of 
his  people ;  she  belonged  to  her  captor,  and  that  he 
had  no  right  to  take  her  from  him. 

He  said,  however,  that  he  could  no  doubt  reconcile 
her  master  by  some  presents,  when  he  should  follow, 
as  he  no  doubt  would  before  long.  He  told  her  she 
could  make  shirts  or  other  garments  for  the  traders, 
and  soon  provide  herself  with  every  thing  necessary 
for  her  comfort.  In  the  meantime,  he  would  furnish 
her  with  whatever  she  needed.  Mrs.  Brown  accepted 
the  savage  chieftain's  proffered  protection,  and  took 
shelter  under  his  roof.. 
10 


146  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

She  had  been  there  but  a  few  days  when  she  waf 
startled  by  the  appearance  of  her  savage  master,  who 
had  followed  her  to  her  place  of  refuge.  Fortunately 
for  her,  the  chieftain  was  at  home,  and  himself  met 
her  pursuer.  The  savage  gruffly  demanded  of  his  chief 
tain  the  white  woman,  his  prisoner. 

Colonel  M'Gillevray  at  once  informed  him  that  she 
was  in  his  house,  and  that  he  had  promised  to  protect 
her.  The  savage  merely  replied,  "Well,  if  you  do  not 
give  me  back  my  prisoner,  I'll  kill  her."  The  wily 
chieftain  knew  his  man,  and,  humoring  his  temper,  re 
plied,  "  That  is  true.  She  is  your  -prisoner,  and  you 
can  kill  her  if  you  choose.  I  know  she  is  a  weak  woman 
and  you  are  a  brave  warrior.  Would  you  tie  the  scalp 
of  a  squaw  about  your  neck  ?" 

"  But  she  can  carry  water,  and  hoe  corn,  and  pound 
hominy  for  my  wife,"  said  the  Creek  warrior;  "and 
she's  mine;  she's  my  prisoner." 

"  That's  true,"  said  the  chieftain ;  "  but  if  you  kill 
her,  will  she  carry  any  more  water  ?  Can  the  dead 
work  ?  If  you  will  consent  to  leave  her  with  me,  so 
that  I  can  send  her  back  to  her  people,  I  will  send  your 
wife  a  new  dress,  and  will  give  you  a  rifle,  some  powder 
and  lead,  and  some  beads  and  paints ;  and  when  you 
go  back  to  your  wife,  she  will  not  see  the  blood  of  a 
woman  upon  your  hands  !" 

Savage  cupidity  overcame  savage  revenge,  and  Mrs. 
Brown  became  the  ransomed  captive  of  the  brave  and 
generous  M'Gillevray;  a  noble  instance  of  chivalry  on 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    147 

the  part  of  a  savage  chieftain,  which  reflects  more 
honor  on  his  name  than  the  glory  of  a  hundred  battles 
fought  by  his  people  during  his  chieftaincy. 

For  several  months  Mrs.  Brown  plied  her  needle  ir 
the  chieftain's  lodge,  and,  by  her  experience  in  the 
craft  of  needle-work,  soon  rendered  herself  useful  to 
her  savage  friends,  and  by  her  dignity  and  energy 
commanded  their  respect. 

The  chieftain,  on  his  next  visit  to  the  upper  Creek 
towns,  found  Mrs.  Brown's  daughter,  Elizabeth,  aged 
about  seven  years,  and  generously  purchased  her  from 
her  master,  and  upon  his  return  home  had  the  pleasure 
of  restoring  the  sweet  child  to  her  distressed  mother ; 
a  grateful  duty,  nobly  performed !  He  also  informed 
Mrs.  Brown  that  he  had  seen  her  son,  George,  and 
tried  to  induce  his  master  to  part  with  him,  but  that 
he  was  so  much  attached  to  the  boy,  he  would  not  part 
with  him  on  any  terms.  But  he  assured  her  that  he 
would  not  fail,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  ransom  her  son, 
and  restore  him  also  to  her  arms. 

In  November,  1789,  Colonel  M'Gillevray  had  ap 
pointed  to  meet  commissioners,  to  arrange  terms  of 
peace,  at  Rock  Landing,  Georgia.  On  his  departure 
for  the  treaty  grounds,  he  took  Mrs.  Brown  and  her 
daughter,  and  there  delivered  them  to  her  son,  William, 
who  came  from  South  Carolina,  and  had  gone  thither 
in  hopes  that  he  might  be  enabled  to  hear  something 
of  her  and  her  long  lost  children. 

Thus,  in  November,  1789,  after  eighteen  months 


148  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

captivity,  she  was  at  last  united  with  her  surviving 
children.  They  spent  a  short  time  in  South  Carolina 
with  somb  relatives,  and  returned  to  Guilford,  North 
Carolina,  at  last  restored  to  her  friends,  whom  she  had 
left  but  two  short  yea*s  before.  But  oh  !  what  a  change 
had  taken  place  in  her  destiny  since  she  had  started 
westward  with  her  husband  and  sons  and  neighbors,  so 
full  of  life  and  hope !  All  her  captive  children  were 
now  restored  to  her  arms,  except  George,  who  was 
doomed  to  a  still  longer  captivity. 

Mrs.  Brown  had  two  sons,  who  were  in  the  Cumber 
land  valley  on  the  9th  of  May,  1788 ;  William,  the 
surveyor,  and  Daniel,  aged  twelve  years,  who  went 
over  the  land  route  witn  some  stock,  to  the  Cumber 
land  valley.  During  her  short  stay  in  Guilford,  her 
benefactor,  the  Creek  chieftain,  passed  through  Guild- 
ford,  and  sent  word  to  Mrs.  Brown  that  he  was  there. 
She  immediately  went  with  her  brother  Colonel  Gil- 
lespie,  Rev.  Dr.  Caldwell,  and  her  son,  William,  and 
with  them  thanked  her  benefactor. 

In  addition,  her  brother  offered  to  pay  Colonel  M'- 
Gillevray  any  sum  which  he  might  think  proper  to 
demand,  as  the  ransom  of  Mrs.  Brown  and  her  daughter, 
but  the  generous  Creek  refused  any  compensation 
whatever.  He  said  he  owed  it  to  humanity  and  honor 
to  do  as  he  had  done,  and  that  to  receive  pay  for  it 
would  deprive  him  both  of  the  real  pleasure  and  real 
honor  of  such  a  deed.  He  assured  Mrs.  Brown  that 
he  would  not  fail  to  use  his  best  efforts  to  restore 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    141 

to  her  her  son,  and  she  might  rely  upon  his  finding  out 
some  means  to  accomplish  so  good  an  object. 

Mrs.  Brown,  with  the  remnant  of  her  family,  again 
turned  her  face  westward,  seeking  the  new  home  which 
the  foresight  of  her  husband  had  prepared  for  her  and 
to  which  he  was  so  boldly  and  so  nobly  conducting 
them,  when  he  perished,  May  9th,  1788.  And  now 
at  last,  in  1792,  this  devoted  woman  and  all  her  sur 
viving  children  but  one,  find  themselves  at  their  new 
home,  at  the  mouth  of  White's  Creek,  near  Nashville. 
About  this  time,  her  son  Joseph,  while  travelling  with 
a  small  party  of  friends,  was  shot  through  the  arm  by 
a  party  of  savages  in  ambush ;  a  severe  wound,  from 
which  he  did  not  recover  for  some  time. 

In  1792,  a  formidable  body  of  Creeks,  Cherokees, 
and  Shawanese,  invaded  Cumberland  valley,  attacked 
Buchanan's  Station,  and  were  repulsed  with  great  loss. 
Young  Joseph  Brown  came  the  next  morning,  with  a 
large  party  of  friends,  to  the  assistance  of  Buchanan, 
but  the  Indians  had  retreated.  Upon  approaching  the 
scene  of  action,  what  was  young  Brown's  astonishment 
at  finding  his  Indian  brother,  Kiachatalee,  lying  cold 
in  death  upon  the  field,  near  the  walls  of  the  fort 
against  which  he  had  so  gallantly  led  the  assault !  The 
next  year,  Joseph  Brown  attended  a  treaty  at  Tellico, 
in  East  Tennessee,  where  he  met  a  nephew  of  Kiacha 
talee,  named  Charles  Butler,  with  whom  he  had  been 
well  acquainted  while  a  prisoner  at  Nickajack.  Butler 
gave  him  the  Indian  version  of  the  attack  on  Bit 


150  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

chanan's  Station,  and  also  the  story  of  Kiachataiee's 
heroic  death.  He  said  the  assault  was  led  by  Kiacha- 
talee.  That  he  attempted  to  set  fire  to  the  block-house, 
and  was  actually  blowing  it  into  a  flame,  when  he  was 
mortally  wounded.  He  continued,  after  receiving  his 
mortal  wound,  to  blow  the  fire,  and  to  cheer  his  fol 
lowers  to  the  assault,  calling  upon  them  to  fight  like 
brave  men,  and  never  give  up  till  they  had  taken  the 
fort.  The  incidents  connected  with  the  attack  on  Bu 
chanan's  Station  can  be  seen  in  Mrs.  Ellett's  "Women 
of  the  Revolution,"  vol.  ill.,  Article,  Sarah  Buchanan, 
in  which  the  Shawanese  chief  is  represented  as  per 
forming  the  heroic  part  which  Kiachatalee  really  per 
formed,  and  not  he. 

There  are  many  incidents  connected  with  frontier 
life,  such  as  Mrs.  Brown  was  now  living,  which  are  of 
every  day  occurrence,  which  would  be  interesting  to 
the  present  generation,  but  the  length  of  this  sheet  will 
necessarily  exclude  many  of  them.  On  one  occasion, 
her  oldest  son,  William,  while  in  pursuit  of  a  party  of 
Indians  near  Nashville,  was  severely  wounded  in  the 
arm,  so  that  almost  every  member  of  her  family,  her 
self  included,  had  been  captured,  wounded,  or  slain  by 
the  hands  of  the  Indians. 

These  were  trials  which  were"  hard  to  bear;  yet 
amidst  all  her  troubles  Mrs.  Brown  bore  herself  as  an 
humble  Christian,  devoutly  grateful  to  the  Giver  of 
all  gcod,  that  he  had  guided  her  footsteps  aright,  in 
the  midst  of  so  many  sorrows. 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    151 

In  the  year  1794,  such  had  been  the  continued  out 
ages  of  the  savages  from  the  Lower  Cherokee  towns, 
in  conjunction  with  Creeks  and  Shawanese,  upon  tha 
Cumberland  settlements,  that  the  principal  pioneers 
resolved  to  fit  out  an  expedition  at  their  own  expense, 
and  march  to  Nickajack  and  Running  Water,  and  to 
punish  these  lawless  people  with  fire  and  sword.  The 
national  administration  had,  by  its  commissioners,  made 
treaty  after  treaty  with  the  Cherokees,  but  still  the 
people  of  these  lower  towns  continued  their  depreda 
tions,  against  the  wishes  of  the  upper  Cherokees  ;  but 
it  was  impossible  to  induce  the  national  government  to 
take  those  decided  steps  which  these  bold  pioneers 
knew  were  absolutely  necessary  to  check  the  marauding 
spirit  of  the  lower  Cherokee  towns.  These  towns  were 
far  down  the  Tennessee,  in  the  midst  of  mountain  fast 
nesses,  which  the  foot  of  hostile  white  man  had  never 
trod.  They  felt  secure  from  all  aggression,  and  re 
posed  in  full  confidence  that,  whoever  might  suffer  on 
account  of  their  incursions  into  Cumberland,  their 
towns  were  unapproachable. 

At  this  time,  young  Joseph  Brown  was  living  near 
Nashville  with  his  mother,  and  had  recently  gone  with 
General  Robertson  to  attend  an  Indian  council  at  Tel- 
lico  clock-house.  The  intimate  knowledge  which  young 
Brown  had  obtained  of  these  lower  towns  anl  their 
people,  by  his  residence  there,  enabled  him  to  commu 
nicate  to  this  thoughtful  old  man  a  good  idea  of  the 
country  and  the  people  from  whom  the  Cumberland 


152  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

settlements  had  so  long  suffered.  The  death  of  Kia- 
chatalee  at  Buchanan's  Station,  on  the  30th  of  Sep 
tember,  1792 ;  his  war-like  character,  so  well  known 
to  Brown,  and  his  leadership  as  a  warrior  amongst  the 
men  of  Nickajack  and  Running  Water,  all  pointed  out 
these  towns  as  the  hives  from  which  came  forth  such 
swarms  of  marauding  Indians. 

Despairing  of  succor  from  the  national  government, 
General  Robertson  wrote  to  Colonel  Whitley,  of  Ken 
tucky,  who  was  a  well-known  partisan,  to  be  at  Nash 
ville,  about  September,  1794,  with  as  many  trusty  rifle 
men  as  he  could  bring  with  him.  About  the  same  time, 
Colonel  Mansco,  General  Johnson,  of  Robertson,  Co 
lonel  Montgomery,  of  Clarksville,  and  General  Robert 
son,  each  quietly  raised  a  few  trusty  men.  Major  Ore 
commanded  a  squadron  of  mounted  men,  who  were  in 
the  employ  of  the  United  States  as  rangers,  to  protect 
the  frontiers  of  Cumberland.  At  the  request  of  General 
Robertson,  Major  Ore  arrived  at  Buchanan's  Station 
just  in  time  to  join  in  the  expedition. 

In  the  mean  time,  boats  were  made  of  hides,  and 
tried  in  the  Cumberland  river,  to  ascertain  their  ca 
pacity  of  transporting  the  troops  across  the  Tennessee. 
These  boats  were  made  each  out  of  two  raw  hides,  aa 
large  as  could  be  got,  sewed  together,  and  each  was 
found  capable  of  carrying  about  fifty  guns,  and  one  or 
two  men.  They  were  capable  of  being  rolled  up  and 
packed  on  mules  or  horses,  and  could  in  a  few  momenta 
be  fully  equipped  and  launched. 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    153 

All  tiftV"  parties  being  assembled,  it  was  ascertained 
that  there  were  about  six  hundred,  including  Major 
Ore's  Rangers.  As  all  but  Ore's  command  were  volun 
teers,  who  came  out  without  any  authority,  it  wa^  re- 
solved  to  give  Major  Ore  the  nominal  command  of  the 
whole  party,  which  would  give  color  of  authority  to  the 
party  to  make  the  campaign,  and  would  save  them 
from  the  odium  of  making  a  lawless  invasion  of  the 
Indian  country.  Colonel  Whitley  and  Colonel  Mansco 
were,  however,  the  prime  movers  of  the  campaign,  and 
had  most  of  the  responsibility  of  its  conduct.  But 
with  the  troops  were  more  than  a  dozen  leading  partisan 
officers,  who  had  been  distinguished  in  many  an  Indian 
battle. 

On  the  7th  of  September,  1794,  this  formidable 
army  of  invasion  set  out  for  Nickajack  ;  and,  although 
the  route  had  been  unexplored,  ,and  the  mountains 
and  the  river  lay  between  them  and  their  enemies, 
they  had  counted  the  cost,  fitted  out  their  boats,  and 
had  resolved  to  strike  a  blow  that  would  teach  the 
lawless  Indians  a  severe  lesson. 

The  troops  made  a  forced  march,  reached  the  Ten 
nessee  river  just  after  dark  on  the  fourth  day,  and  in 
thirty  minutes  had  their  raw-hide  boats  afloat  in  the 
river,  ready  to  bear  over  the  arms.  They  immediately 
began  to  cross  the  river,  landing  a  short  distance  below 
the  town  of  Nickajack.  Most  of  the  men  swam  over 
in  perfect  silence,  their  arms  and  clothes  being  con 
veyed  in  the  boats,  and  on  rafts  rudely  constructed  of 


154  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

bundles  of  canes.  In  order  to  guide  the  summers,  a 
very  small  fire  was  kindled  at  the  water's  edge,  by  the 
party  which  first  crossed.  Out  of  six  hundred,  only 
two  hundred  and  thirty  could  be  induced  to  cross  over  ; 
some  holding  back  because  they  could  not  swim,  and 
others  because  they  were  subject  to  the  cramp  ;  and 
others,  no  doubt,  reflecting  upon  the  number  of  the 
enemy,  and  the  difficulty  of  a  retreat  when  once  across' 
so  wide  a  river,  did  not  feel  quite  willing  "  to  stand 
the  hazard  of  the  die."  But,  in  the  face  of  appalling 
dangers,  some  men  showed  a  stout-heartedness  which 
might  have  done  honor  to  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 
A  young  man  by  the  name  of  Joseph  B.  Porter,  who 
could  not  swim  at  all,  tied  an  armful  of  dry  canes  to 
gether,  and,  nothing  daunted,  plunged  into  the  rapid 
river,  and  kicked  himself  over  in  safety.  Young  Brown 
although  still  lame  in  one  arm,  from  the  wound  he  had 
received  in  the  Indian  ambuscade,  plunged  into  the 
river  and  swam  safely  over. 

At  daylight,  there  were  two  hundred  and  thirty  on 
the  south  bank  of  the  Tennessee,  within  half  a  mile  of 
Nickajack,  and  yet  they  were  undiscovered. 

Leaving  young  Brown,  with  twenty  picked  men,  to 
guard  the  crossing  of  the  creek,  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  town,  with  instructions  to  meet  them  in  the  centre 
of  the  town  as  soon  as  he  heard  their  fire,  the  main 
body  lurned  towards  the  town,  and  came  down  upon 
it  from  above. 

Although  Nickajack  contained  about  three  hundred 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    155 

warriors,  they  were  so  completely  surprised  that  they 
made  but  little  resistance  ;  but,  flying  precipitately, 
took  to  their  canoes,  and  attempted  to  cross  the  river. 
Some  fled  to  the  Running  Water,  and  others  secreted 
themselves  in  the  thickets.  The  whole  town  ran  with 
blood.  About  seventy  warriors  were  slain,  and  a  large 
number  of  women  and  children  taken  prisoners.  Young 
Brown  carried  the  lower  end  of  the  town  manfully, 
killing  several  warriors,  and  taking  some  prisoners. 
In  one  instance,  Brown  killed  an  Indian  warrior  in  a 
a  single  combat,  and  carried  away  his  scalp. 

As  soon  as  Nickajack  was  taken,  a  detachment  was 
Bent  to  destroy  •  Running  Water.  On  the  way,  the 
Indians  met  them,  and,  after  an  obstinate  resistance, 
gave  way,  but  not  till  they  had  wounded  three  Ame 
ricans,  one  of  them  Joshua  Thomas  mortally. 

Running  Water  was  also  taken,  and  both  towns  im 
mediately  reduced  to  ashes. 

Amongst  the  dead,  Brown  recognised  the  body  of 
Breath,  the  generous  chief  who  had  adopted  him  into 
his  family  when  he  was  a  prisoner. 

In  the  towns,  many  articles  of  stolen  property, 
which  were  recognised  as  belonging  to  men  who  had 
been  killed  in  Cumberland  valley,  were  found.  In  ad 
dition  to  these,  fresh  scalps  were  found  in  Nickajack, 
as  well  as  a  number  of  letters,  taken  by  she  Indians 
from  mail-bags,  after  having  killed  the  rider.  They 
also  found  a  quantity  of  powder  and  lead,  recently 
Bent  by  the  Spanish  government  to  these  Indians. 


156  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Never  was  a  visitation  of  this  kind  so  justly  merited 
as  it  was  by  these  towns.  They  were  the  principal 
crossing-places  for  the  war-parties  of  Creeks,  Shawa- 
nese,  and  Cherokees,  who  went  to  harass  the  Cumber 
land  settlements.  But  two  days  before  their  destruc 
tion,  a  war-dance  was  held  there,  at  which  were  seve 
ral  Cherokee  chiefs,  as  well  as  Creeks,  who  had  resolved 
to  wage  a  still  more  relentless  war  on  the  frontiers. 

While  young  Brown  could  not  but  feel  that  the  hand 
of  Providence  had  signally  punished  these  towns  for 
their  outrage  on  the  9th  of  May,  1788,  his  exultation 
was  prevented  by  the  death  of  his  brother-in-law,  Joshua 
Thomas,  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  kind,  generous  friend, 
who  was  the  only  one  slain  by  the  enemy  on  this 
occasion. 

The  prisoners  recognised  young  Brown,  and,  alarmed 
for  their  safety,  pleaded  with  him  to  save  their  lives, 
saying  to  him,  that  his  life  had  once  been  spared  by 
them.  Brown  assured  them  that  they  were  in  no 
danger ;  that  the  white  people  never  killed  prisoners, 
women,  and  children. 

This  blow  was  so  unexpected  and  successful,  that  it 
inspired  the  Cherokees  with  a  sincere  desire  for  peace, 
which  they  soon  after  concluded,  and  never  again  vio 
lated.  Soon  after  this  afiair,  young  George  Brown 
was  liberated  by  the  Creeks. 

Young  Brown  returned  home,  and  lived  some  yeara 
with  his  mother.  He  was  devoted  to  every  relation  of 
life.  He  soon  attached  himself  to  Rev.  Thomas  B 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    157 

Craighead's  congregation,  near  Hayesboro,  and  was 
made  an  elder  in  the  church. 

For  several  years,  young  Brown,  his  mother,  and 
brothers,  memorialized  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States  to  reimburse  them  for  the  goods  and  slaves 
taken  from  them  on  the  9th  of  May,  1788,  in  violation 
of  the  treaty  of  Hopewell.  But  ttieir  claims  were  still 
unregarded  and  still  delayed,  year  after  year,  and 
Congress  after  Congress,  and  yet  no  relief. 

In  the  year  1806,  a  treaty  was  finally  concluded 
with  the  Indians,  which  opened  all  the  lands  on  Duck 
river  to  the  occupation  of  those  who  had  located  their 
warrants  there.  Thus  Mrs.  Brown  and  her  children 
came  into  possession  of  a  large  and  splendid  tract  of 
land  south  of  Columbia,  to  which  she  soon  after  removed 
with  her  son  Joseph. 

During  the  Creek  war  of  1812-13,  a  large  number 
of  Cherokee  Indians  offered  their  services  to  General 
Jackson  against  their  red  brethern.  General  Jackson 
immediately  wrote  to  Joseph  Brown,  who  had  lately 
been  elected  colonel  by  his  neighbors,  requesting  him 
to  consent  to  command  a  regiment  of  Cherokee  In 
dians.  This  Colonel  Brown  promptly  agreed  to  do, 
and  started  to  join  the  army  for  that  purpose.  Colonel 
Brown,  however,  never  took  charge  of  the  Indians,  but 
served  with  the  army,  as  aid  to  General  Robards.  as 
well  as  interpreter  and  guide. 

Colonel  Brown  was  thus  a  participant  in  the  battle 
of  Talladega,  and  had  the  honor  of  leading  and  con- 


158  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

ducting  a  charge  upon  the  most  hotly  contested  part 
of  the  Indian  lines.  During  this  campaign,  Colonel 
Brown  again  met  Charles  Butler,  the  nephew  of  Kia- 
chatalee,  and  learned  from  him  that  the  old  Tuskegec 
chief,  Cutty-a-toy,  was  still  alive.  Through  him,  he 
learned,  that  he  was  then  living  on  an  island  in  the 
Tennessee  river,  near  the  mouth  of  Elle  river,  and  that 
he  had  with  him  several  negroes,  the  descendants  ol 
the  woman  taken  by  him  at  Nickajack,  on  the  9th  of 
May,  1788. 

Colonel  Brown  had,  at  that  time,  a  claim  before 
Congress  for  the  value  of  those  negroes,  but  had  always 
been  put  off  by  reason  of  some  defect  in  the  proof  as 
to  their  value,  or  some  other  matter  of  form.  He  now 
determined  that,  as  his  negroes  were  still  in  the  hands 
of  the  original  wrong-doer,  the  Tuskegee  chief,  he 
would  get  possession  of  them,  and  carry  them  home. 

Colonel  Brown  stated  to  General  Jackson  the  facts 
of  the  case,  and  demanded  of  him,  and  obtained,  an 
order  appointing  a  mixed  commission  of  American 
and  Cherokee  officers,  to  value  the  negroes  of  Cutty-a- 
toy.  The  Cherokees  had  long  been  in  peace  with  the 
whites,  and  were  now  in  alliance  with  them  against  the 
Creeks ;  and  under  such  circumstances  there  was 
friendly  intercourse  between  them. 

With  ten  picked  men,  Brown  proceeded  to  the  is 
land,  went  to  the  head  man's  lodge,  and  exhibited  to 
him  General  Jackson's  order,  and  demanded  that 
Cutty-a-toy's  negroes  be  immediately  sent  over  to  Forfc 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    159 

Hampton,  to  be  valued,  in  pursuance  of  said  order, 
The  head  man  sent  for  Cutty-a-toy,  and  it  was  imme 
diately  agreed  that  all  would  go  to  the  fort  the  next 
morning. 

The  next  morning,  the  negroes,  Cutty-a-toy  and  hia 
wife,  and  some  friends,  with  Colonel  Brown  went  tc 
the  fort.  In  crossing  the  river,  Colonel  Brown  and  his 
men  took  up  the  negroes,  and  Cutty-a-toy's  wife  be 
hind  them,  to  carry  them  over  the  water,  while  the 
Indian  men  crossed  on  a  raft  higher  up. 

When  he  reached  the  fort  he  directed  his  men  to 
proceed  with  the  negroes  towards  Ditto's  landing,  and 
he  turned  into  the  fort  with  Cutty-a-toy's  wife,  to  await 
the  arrival  of  the  Indians.  He  immediately  called  on 
the  commandant  of  the  fort,  Colonel  Williams,  stated 
the  history  of  the  case,  and  the  order  of  General 
Jackson,  and  the  failure  of  Congress  to  pay  for  these 
negroes,  and  the  fact  that  these  negroes  were  now  in 
his  possession ;  and*  frankly  asked  him  what  course  he 
would  pursue,  under  the  circumstances.  "  Take  the 
negroes  home  with  you,"  said  the  Colonel;  "and  if 
you  wish  to  do  it,  and  have  not  men  enough,  I  will 
give  you  more." 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Cutty-a-toy  and  his  followers, 
they  were  invited  into  the  fort,  and  Colonel  Brown 
made  known  to  him  that  he  had  sent  the  negroes  off, 
but  was  willing  for  the  commissioners  to  proceed  to 
value  them.  The  Indian  became  enraged.  A  t  last, 
in  the  midst  of  the  garrison,  officers  and  men,  and  th* 


IGO  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Indians,  Colonel  Brown  gave  a  brief  narrative  of  the 
murder  of  his  father  by  Cutty-a-toy's  party,  the  murder 
of  his  brothers,  and  the  captivity  of  his  mother,  small 
brother  and  sisters ;  of  the  capture  of  the  slaves  by 
Cutty-a-toy,  and  his  attempt  upon  Colonel  Brown  him 
self,  then  a  boy  at  the  house  of  the  French  trader  . 
and  of  his  being  saved  by  the  intercession  of  the 
trader's  wife,  and  the  Indian's  desire  to  save  the  life 
of  his  captive  negro  woman.  "  It  is  now,"  said  Colonel 
Brown,  "  nearly  twenty-five  years,  and  yet  during  all 
that  time  you  have  had  the  negro  woman  and  her 
children  as  your  slaves,  and,  they  have  worked  for  you  ; 
and  yet  you  got  them  by  the  murder  of  my  father  and 
brothers  ?  You  made  me  an  orphan  and  a  beggar, 
when,  but  for  you,  I  had  begun  the  world  with  the 
smiles  of  a  father,  and  the  comfort  of  a  home  provided 
by  his  care.  For  this  wrong,  this  crime,  Cutty-a-toy, 
you  deserve  to  die  !" 

Here  Cutty-a-toy  hung  his  head,  and  said,  "  It  is  all 
true:  do  with  me  as  you  please." 

The  soldiers  who  stood  around,  many  of  them  the 
neighbors  of  Colonel  Brown,  said,  "  Kill  him  !  he  ought 
to  die."  But  Colonel  Brown  was  now  a  Christian,  and 
had  long,  long  ceased  to  cherish  feelings  of  revenge 
agrinst  the  savage  murderer  of  his  father. 

"No,  no,  Cutty-a-toy,"  proceeded  Colonel  Brown; 
"  although  you  deserve  to  die,  and  at  my  hands,  yet  I 
>vill  not  kill  you.  If  I  did  not  worship  the  Great  Spirit 
who  rules  all  things,  I  would  slay  you ;  but  vengeance 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    161 

is  His,  and  I  will  leave  you  to  answer  to  him  for  your 
crimes !  But  I  will  not  stain  my  hands  with  your 
blood ;  you  are  now  old,  and  must  soon  go  down  to  the 
grave,  and  answer  to  that  Great  Spirit  for  the  life 
you  have  led.  Live  and  repent." 

Here  Cutty-a-toy  assumed  a  bolder  front,  and  said, 
by  certain  treaties  made  in  1794,  this  property  was 
guaranteed  to  him,  and  that  he  would  sue  Brown  in 
the  Federal  Courts,  as  some  other  Indians  named  by 
him  had  done,  in  similar  cases ;  but  he  finally  agreed, 
if  Brown  would  give  him  a  young  negro  fellow,  he 
might  take  the  rest,  including  the  two  women  and 
some  children,  which  was  generously  done. 

Thus  the  fortunes  of  war,  controlled  by  the  steady 
perseverance  of  her  son,  at  length  restored  to  Mrs. 
Brown  a  part  of  her  long-lost  property.  Many  years 
afterwards,  when  General  Jackson  became  President, 
Colonel  Brown  finally  obtained  an  allowance  from 
Congress  for  a  part  of  the  property  lost  by  his  father 
in  1788.  In  1810,  Colonel  Brown  became  a  member 
of  the  Cumberland  Presbyterian  church,  and  in  1832, 
a  regularly  ordained  minister  of  the  church. 

Having  lived  to  the  advanced  age  of  ninety,  and 
never  having  re-married,  but  always  making  her  home 
with  her  son,  Colonel  Joseph  Brown,  Mrs.  Brown 
left  this  world  of  vexation  and  sorrow,  for  such  it  was 
to  her,  at  her  son's  residence,  in  Maury  county,  Ten 
nessee.  Hers  was  a  most  eventful  life,  full  of  trials, 
almost  beyond  human  endurance;  yet  «he  did  not 
11 


ID'J  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

murmur,  but  tried   to  see,  in   all   her   afflictions,  the 
kind  guidance  of  a  wise  Providence. 

George,  soon  after  his  release  from  captivity,  emi 
grated  to  the  south,  and,  after  nearly  fifty  years 
honorable  citizenship,  near  Woodville,  Mississippi, 
died  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 

The  captive  daughter,  Jane,  whose  release  was 
due  to  the  manly  courage  of  her  youthful  brother, 
was  married  to  a  Mr.  Collingsworth,  and  became  with 
him,  as  early  as  1819,  a  citizen  of  Texas,  where  her 
descendants  yet  reside. 

The  history  of  the  events  connected  with  the  family 
of  Mrs.  Brown  possesses  all  the  attractions  of  a  ro 
mance  ;  yet  it  is  but  a  plain,  sad  story  of  trials  and  suf 
ferings  incident  to  the  period  and  the  border  in  which 
she  passed  her  life.  She  lived  to  an  octogenarian  age 
and  yet  she  often  wept,  as  she  told  the  tale  of  hei 
captivity  and  sufferings,  and  those  of  her  children. 

The  only  survivor  of  that  pioneer  family  is  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Brown,  of  Maury  county,  Tennessee,  better 
known  as  Colonel  Brown.  From  notes  and  memo 
randa  furnished  by  him,  the  principal  details  of  this 
narrative  have  been  written.  They  cannot  fail  to  be 
useful  to  the  future  historian  of  Tennessee,  yet  Hey- 
wood,  in  his  history  of  500  pages,  only  contains  the 
following  allusion  to  the  facts  contained  in  this  narra 
tive.  Speaking  of  the  treaty  of  peace  made  at  Tellico, 
October  20th,  1795,  between  the  people  of  Tennessee, 
the  Creeks  and  Cherokees,  they,  (the  Creeks,)  says 


CAPTIVITY  OF  JANE  BROWN  AND  HER  FAMILY.    163 

the  historian,  "  at  this  time  delivered  up  Brown,  son 
of  Mrs.  Brown,  formerly  a  prisoner  in  the  Creek  na 
tion." — p.  466.  Yet  how  inadequate  is  such  a  notice 
to  do  justice  either  to  the  sufferings  of  Mrs.  Brown 
and  her  children,  or  Jo  the  generous  protection  of  the 
Creek  chieftain,  to  whom  they  were  indebted  for  their 
deliverance !  For  notwithstanding,  says  another 
writer-,  the  "  obloquy  which  both  history  and  tradition 
have  thrown  upon  the  characters  of  the  Creek  and 
Cherokee  warriors,  some  bright  gleams  occasionally 
break  through,  wrhich  throw  a  melancholy  lustre  over 
their  memories."  But  a  large  portion  of  the  pioneer 
history  of  Tennessee  has  never  been  written.  Replete 
with  incidents  and  heroic  deeds  which  might  challenge 
the  admiration  of  the  world,  yet  all  that  has  been 
written  by  Heywood  and  others  would  scarcely  answer 
as  a  thread  to  guide  the  future  historian  through  the 
labyrinth  of  events  which  crowded  upon  the  infant 
colonies  of  the  Cumberland  and  the  Holston. 


HEROISM  OF  WOMEN  AT  BRYANT'S 
STATION. 

IN  the  summer  of  1782,  the  Indians  of  Ohio  re 
solved  to  make  a  grand  effort  to  drive  the  whites  from 
Kentucky.  An  army  of  six  hundred  men,  under  the 
command  of  the  renegade  whites,  Simon  Girty  and 
M'Kee,  was  collected  at  Chillicothe,  and  early  in  Au 
gust  they  commenced  their  march.  With  a  secrecy 
and  celerity  peculiar  to  themselves,  they  advanced 
through  the  woods  without  giving  the  slightest  indica 
tions  of  their  approach  ;  and  on  the  night  of  the  14th 
of  August,  they  appeared  before  Bryant's  station,  as 
suddenly  as  if  they  had  risen  from  the  earth,  and  sur 
rounding  it  on  all  sides,  calmly  awaited  the  approach 
of  daylight,  holding  themselves  in  readiness  to  rush  in 
upon  the  inhabitants  the  moment  that  the  gates  were 
opened  in  the  morning.  The  supreme  influence  of 
fortune  in  war,  was  never  more  strikingly  displayed. 

The  garrison  had  determined  to  march  at  daylight 

on  the  following,  morning  to  the  assistance  of  Hoy's 

station,    from  which  a    messenger    had    arrived    the 

evening  before,  with  the  intelligence  of  Holder's  defeat, 

(164; 


HEROISM  OP  WOMEN  AT  BRYANT'S  STATION.     165 

Had  the  Indians  arrived  only  a  few  hours  later,  they 
would  have  found  the  fort  occupied  only  by  old  men, 
women  and  children,  who  could  not  have  resisted  their 
attack  for  a  moment.  As  it  was,  they  found  the  garrison 
assembled  and  under  arms,  most  of  them  busily  en 
gaged  throughout  the  whole  night,  in  preparing  for 
an  early  march  on  the  following  morning.  The  In 
dians  could  distinctly  hear  the  bustle  of  preparation, 
and  see  lights  glancing  from  block-houses  and  cabins 
during  the  night,  which  must  have  led  them  to  suspect 
that  their  approach  had  been  discovered.  All  con 
tinued  tranquil  during  the  night,  and  Girty  silently 
concerted  the  plan  of  attack. 

The  fort,  consisting  of  about  forty  cabins  placed  in 
parallel  lines,  stands  upon  a  gentle  rise  on  the  south 
ern  bank  of  the  Elkhorn,  a  few  paces  to  the  right  of 
the  road  from  Maysville  to  Lexington.  The  garrison 
was  supplied  with  water  from  a  spring  at  some  distance 
from  the  fort  on  its  north-western  side  ;  a  great  error, 
common  to  most  of  the  stations,  which,  in  a  close  and 
continued  siege,  must  have  suffered  dreadfully  for 
want  of  water. 

The  great  body  of  Indians  placed  themselves  in  am 
bush  within  half  rifle-shot  of  the  spring,  while  one 
hundred  select  men  were  placed  near  the  spot  where 
the  road  now  runs  after  passing  the  creek,  with  orders 
to  open  a  brisk  fire  and  show  themselves  to  the  gar 
rison  on  that  side,  for  the  purpose  of  driving  them  out, 
while  the  main  body  held  themselves  in  readiness  to 


166  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

rush  upon  the  opposite  gate  of  the  fort,  hew  it  down 
with  their  tomahawks,  and  force  their  way  into  the 
midst  of  the  cabins.  At  dawn  of  day,  the  garrison 
paraded  under  arms,  and  were  preparing  to  open  their 
gates  and  march  off  as  already  mentioned,  when  they 
were  alarmed  by  a  furious  discharge  of  rifles,  accom 
panied  with  yells  and  screams,  which  struck  terror  to 
the  hearts  of  the  women  and  children,  and  startled 
even  the  men. 

% 

All  ran  hastily  to  the  picketing,  and  beheld  a  small 
party  of  Indians,  exposed  to  open  view,  firing,  yelling, 
and  making  the  most  furious  gestures.  The  appearance 
was  so  singular,  and  so  different  from  their  usual  man 
ner  of  fighting,  that  some  of  the  more  wary  and  ex 
perienced  of  the  garrison  instantly  pronounced  it  a 
decoy  party,  and  restrained  the  young  men  from 
sallying  out  and  attacking  them,  as  some  of  them  were 
strongly  disposed  to  do.  The  opposite  side  of  the  fort 
was  instantly  manned,  and  several  breaches  in  the 
picketing  rapidly  repaired.  Their  greatest  distress 
arose  from  the  prospect  of  suffering  for  water.  The 
more  experienced  of  the  garrison  felt  satisfied  that 
a  powerful  party  was  in  ambuscade  near  the  spring, 
but  at  the  same  time  they  supposed  that  the  Indiana 
would  not  unmask  themselves,  until  the  firing  upon 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fort  was  returned  with  such 
warmth,  as  to  induce  the  belief  that  the  feint  had 
succeeded. 

Acting  upon  this  impression,  and  yielding  to  the 


HEROISM  OF  WOMEN  AT  BRYANT'S  STATION.      167 

• 

urgent  necessity  of  the  case,  they  summoned  all  the 
women,  without  exception,  and  explaining  to  them  the 
circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  and  the 
improbability  that  any  injury  would  be  offered  them, 
until  the  firing  had  been  returned  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  fort,  they  urged  them  to  go  in  a  body  to 
the  spring,  and  each  to  bring  up  a  bucket  full  of  water 
Some  of  the  ladies,  as  was  natural,  had  no  relish  for 
the  undertaking,  and  asked  why  the  men  could  not 
bring  water  as  well  as  themselves  ?  observing  that  they 
were  not  bullet-proof,  and  that  the  Indians  made  no 
distinction  between  male  and  female  scalps  ! 

To  this  it  was  answered,  that  women  were  in  the 
habit  of  bringing  water  every  morning  to  the  fort,  and 
that  if  the  Indians  saw  them  engaged  as  usual,  it 
would  induce  them  to  believe  that  their  ambuscade  was 
undiscovered,  and  that  they  would  not  unmask  them 
selves  for  the  sake  of  firing  at  a  few  women,  when  they 
hoped,  by  remaining  concealed  a  few  moments  longer, 
to  obtain  complete  possession  of  the  fort.  That  if 
men  should  go  down  to  the  spring,  the  Indians  would 
immediately  suspect  that  something  was  wrong,  would 
despair  of  succeeding  by  ambuscade,  and  would  in 
stantly  rush  upon  them,  follow  them  into  the  fort,  or 
shoot  them  down  at  the  spring.  The  decision  was  soon 
over. 

A  few  of  the  boldest  declared  their  readiness  to  brave 
the  danger,  and  the  younger  and  more  timid  rallying 
in  the  rear  of  these  veterans,  they  all  marched  down 


168  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

in  a  body  to  the  spring,  within  point  blank  shot  of 
more  than  five  hundred  Indian  warriors  !  Some  of 
the  girls  could  not  help  betraying  symptoms  of  terror, 
but  the  married  women,  in  general,  moved  with  a 
steadiness  and  composure,  which  completely  deceived 
the  Indians.  Not  a  shot  was  fired.  The  party  were 
permitted  to  fill  their  buckets,  one  after  another,  with 
out  interruption,  and  although  their  steps  became 
quicker  and  quicker,  on  their  return,  and  when  near 
the  gate  of  the  fort,  degenerated  into  a  rather  un-mi- 
litary  celerity,  attended  with  some  little  crowding  in 
passing  the  gate,  yet  not  more  than  one-fifth  of  the 
water  was  spilled,  and  the  eyes  of  the  youngest  had 
not  dilated  to  more  than  double  their  ordinary  size. 

The  various  attacks  upon  the  fort  proving  unsuc 
cessful,  the  Indian  army  at  length  retreated.  Unfor 
tunately,  the  whites  followed  them,  with  insufficient 
forces  and  reckless  hardihood.  The  disastrous  battle 
of  the  Blue  Licks  ensued.  The  whites  were  completely 
defeated,  and  the  Indians  returned  home  with  a  large 
cumber  of  scalps, 


MES.  HELM,  THE  HEKOINE  OF 
CHICAGO. 

THE  massacre  of  Chicago  was  one  of  the  most  ter 
rible  of  the  events  which  occurred  in  the  early  part 
of  the  war  of  1812.  A  fort  had  heen  erected  upon 
the  site  of  the  present  city  of  Chicago,  as  early  as 
1803.  Around  the  fort  Several  families  had  clustered, 
built  cabins,  and  began  to  cultivate  the  ground. 
When  the  war  broke  out,  the  garrison  of  the  fort  con 
sisted  of  fifty  men,  commanded  by  Captain  Heald. 
As  it  was  remote  from  the  other  American  posts,  and 
the  neighboring  country  was  occupied  by  the  Potta- 
watomie  Indians,  whose  adherence  to  the  United 
States  was  more  than  doubtful,  the  garrison  should 
have  been  withdrawn  or  strengthened.  When  it  was 
too  late,  General  Hull  ordered  the  evacuation  of  the 
post. 

On  the  7th  of  August,  (1812,)  in  the  afternoon, 
Winnemeg,  or  Catfish,  a  friendly  Indian  of  the  Potta- 
watomie  tribe,  arrived  at  Chicago,  and  brought  dis 
patches  from  general  Hull,  containing  the  first,  and  at 

(169) 


170  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

that  time,  the  only  intelligence,  of  the  declaration  of 
war.  General  Hull's  letter  announced  the  capture  of 
Mackinaw,  and  directed  Heald  "  to  evacuate  the  fort 
at  Chicago,  if  practicable,  and  in  that  event,  to  distri 
bute  all  of  the  United  States  property  contained  in  the 
factory,  or  agency,  among  the  Indians  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  repair  to  Fort  Wayne."  Winnemeg 
having  delivered  his  dispatches  to  Captain  Heald,  and, 
as  he  was  acquainted  with  the  purport  of  the  com 
munication  he  had  brought,  urged  upon  Captain  Heald 
the  policy  of  remaining  in  the  fort,  being  supplied,  as 
they  were,  with  ammunition  and  provisions  for  a  con 
siderable  time.  In  case,  however,  Captain  Heald 
thought  proper  to  evacuate  the  place,  he  urged  upon 
him  the  propriety  of  doing  so  immediately,  before  the 
Pottawatomies  (through  whose  country  they  must  pass 
and  who  were  as  yet  ignorant  of  the  object  of  his  mis 
sion,)  could  collect  a  force  sufficient  to  oppose  them. 
This  advice,  though  given  in  great  earnestness,  was 
not  sufficiently  regarded  by  Captain  Heald ;  who  ob 
served,  that  he  should  evacuate  the  fort,  but  having 
received  orders  to  distribute  the  public  property  among 
the  Indians,  he  did  not  feel  justified  in  leaving  it,  until 
he  had  collected  the  Pottawatomies  in  its  vicinity,  and 
made  an  equitable  distribution  among  them.  Winne 
meg  then  suggested  the  expediency  of  marching  out, 
and  leaving  every  thing  standing ;  "  while  the  Indians," 
said  he,  "  are  dividing  the  spoils,  the  troops  will  be 
able  to  retreat  without  molestation."  This  advice  was 


MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.         171 

also  unheeded ;  an  order  for  evacuating  the  fort  wa? 
read  next  morning  on  parade.  Captain  Heald,  in  is 
suing  it,  had  neglected  to  consult  his  junior  officers, 
as  it  would  have  been  natural  for  him  to  do  in  such  an 
emergency,  and  as  he  would  have  done,  had  there  not 
been  some  coolness  between  him  and  Ensign  Roman. 
The  lieutenant  and  ensign,  after  the  promulgation  of 
this  order,  waited  on  Captain  Heald  to  learn  his  inten 
tions  ;  and  being  apprised,  for  the  first  time,  of  the 
course  he  intended  to  pursue,  they  remonstrated 
against  it.  "  We  do  not,"  said  they  to  Captain  Heald, 
"  believe  that  our  troops  can  pass  in  safety  through 
the  country  of  the  Pottawatomies,  to  Fort  Wayne. 
Although  a  part  of  their  chiefs  were  opposed  to  an 
attack  upon  us  last  summer,  they  were  actuated  by 
motives  of  private  friendship  for  some  particular  indi 
viduals,  and  not  from  a  regard  to  the  Americans  in 
general ;  and  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that,  in  the 
present  excited  state  of  feeling  among  the  Indians, 
those  chiefs  will  be  able  to  influence  the  whole  tribe, 
now  thirsting  for  vengeance.  Besides,"  said  they,  "  our 
march  must  be  slow,  on  account  of  the  women  and 
children.  Our  force,  too,  is  small.  Some  of  our  sol 
diers  are  superannuated,  and  some  of  them  are  invalids. 
We  think,  therefore,  as  your  orders  are  discretionary, 
that  we  had  better  fortify  ourselves  as  strongly  as  pos 
sible,  and  remain  where  we  are.  Succor  may  reach 
us  before  we  shall  be  attacked  from  Mackinaw :  and, 
in  case  of  such  an  event,  we  had  better  fall  into  the 


172  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

hands  of  the  English,  than  become  victims  of  the 
savages."  Captain  Heald  replied,  that  his  force  waa 
inadequate  to  contend  with  the  Indians,  and  that  he 
should  be  censured  were  he  to  continue  in  garrison, 
when  the  prospect  of  a  safe  retreat  to  Fort  Wayne  was 
so  apparent.  He  therefore  deemed  it  advisable  to  as 
semble  the  Indians,  and  distribute  the  public  property 
among  them,  and  ask  of  them  an  escort  thither,  with 
the  promise  of  a  considerable  sum  of  money  to  be  paid 
on  their  safe  arrival ;  adding,  that  he  had  perfect  con 
fidence  in  the  friendly  professions  of  the  Indians,  from 
whom,  as  well  as  from  the  soldiers,  the  capture  of 
Mackinaw  had  studiously  been  concealed. 

From  this  time  forward,  the  junior  officers  stood 
aloof  from  their  commander,  and,  considering  his  pro 
ject  as  little  short  of  madness,  conversed  as  little  upon 
the  subject  as  possible.  Dissatisfaction,  however,  soon 
filled  the  camp ;  the  soldiers  began  to  murmur,  and 
insubordination  assumed  a  threatening  aspect. 

The  savages,  in  the  meantime,  became  more  and 
more  troublesome ;  entered  the  fort  occasionally,  in 
defiance  of  the  sentinels,  and  even  made  their  way 
without  ceremony  into  the  quarters  of  its  commanding 
officer.  On  one  occasion  an  Indian,  taking  up  a  rifle, 
fired  it  in  the  parlor  of  Captain  Heald.  Some  were 
of  opinion  that  this  was  intended  as  the  signal  for  an 
attack.  The  old  chiefs  at  this  time  passed  back  and 
forth  among  the  assembled  groups,  apparently  agitated  • 
and  the  squaws  seemed  much  excited,  as  though  some 


MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.    173 

terrible  calamity  was  impending.  No  further  mani» 
festations,  however,  of  ill  feeling  were  exhibited,  and 
the  day  passed  without  bloodshed.  So  infatuated,  at 
this  time,  was  Captain  Heald,  that  he  supposed  he  had 
wrought  a  favorable  impression  upon  the  savages,  and 
that  the  little  garrison  could  now  march  forth  in  safety. 

From  the  8th  to  the  12th  of  August,  the  hostility 
of  the  Indians  was  more  and  more  apparent ;  and  the 
feelings  of  the  garrison,  and  of  those  connected  with, 
and  dependent  upon  it  for  their  safety,  more  and  more 
intense.  Distrust  every  where  at  length  prevailed,  and 
the  want  of  unanimity  among  the  officers,  was  appalling. 
Every  inmate  retired  to  rest,  expecting  to  be  aroused 
by  the  war-whoop ;  and  each  returning  day  was  re 
garded  by  all  as  another  step  on  the  road  to  massacre. 

The  Indians  from  the  adjacent  villages  having  at 
length  arrived,  a  council  was  held  on  the  12th  of  Au 
gust.  It  was  attended,  however,  only  by  Captain 
Heald  on  the  part  of  the  military ;  the  other  officers 
refused  to  attend,  having  previously  learned  that  a 
massacre  was  intended.  This  fact  was  communicated 
to  Captain  Heald ;  he  insisted,  however,  on  their 
going,  and  they  resolutely  persisted  in  their  refusal. 
When  Captain  Heald  left  the  fort,  they  repaired  to 
the  block-house,  which  overlooked  the  ground  where 
the  council  was  in  session,  and  opening  the  port-holes, 
pointed  their  cannon  in  its  direction.  This  circum 
stance,  and  their  absence,  it  is  supposed,  saved  the 
whites  from  massacre. 


174  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Captain  Heald  informed  the  Indians  in  council,  that 
he  would,  next  day,  distribute  among  them  all  the 
goods  in  the  United  States  factory,  together  with  the 
ammunition  and  provisions  with  which  the  garrison 
was  supplied ;  and  desired  of  them  an  escort  to  Fort 
Wayne,  promising  them  a  reward  on  their  arrival 
thither,  in  addition  to  the  presents  they  were  about  to 
receive.  The  savages  assented,  with  professions  of 
friendship,  to  all  he  proposed,  and  promised  all  he  re 
quired.  The  council  was  no  sooner  dismissed,  than 
several,  observing  the  tone  of  feeling  which  prevailed, 
and  anticipating  from  it  no  good  to  the  garrison,  waited 
on  Captain  Heald,  in  order  to  open  his  eyes  if  possible, 
to  their  condition. 

The  impolicy  of  furnishing  the  Indians  with  arms 
and  ammunition,  to  be  used  against  themselves,  struck 
Captain  Heald  with  so  much  force,  that  he  resolved, 
without  consulting  his  officers,  to  destroy  all  not  re 
quired  for  immediate  use. 

On  the  next  day,  (August  13th,)  the  goods  in  the 
factory  were  all  distributed  among  the  Indians,  who 
had  collected  near  the  fort ;  and  in  the  evening,  the 
ammunition,  and  also  the  liquor  belonging  to  the  gar 
rison,  were  carried,  the  former  into  the  sally-port  and 
thrown  into  the  well,  and  the  latter  through  the  south 
gate,  as  silently  as  possible,  to  the  river  bank,  where 
the  heads  of  the  barrels  were  knocked  in,  and  their 
contents  discharged  into  the  stream. 

The  Indians,  however,  suspecting  the  game,  ap- 


MRS.  HELM,  tHB  HEROINE  OP  CHICAGO.          175 

preached  as  near  as  possible,  and  witnessed  the  whole 
scene.  The  spare  muskets  were  broken  up,  and  thrown 
into  the  well,  together  with  bags  of  shot,  flints,  and 
gun-screws,  and  other'  things ;  all,  however,  of  but 
little  value. 

On  the  14th,  the  despondency  of  the  garrison  was 
for  a  time  dispelled  by  the  arrival  of  Captain  "Wells, 
and  fifteen  friendly  Miamies.  Having  heard  at  Fort 
Wayne  of  the  order  to  evacuate  Chicago,  and  knowing 
the  hostile  intentions  of  the  Pottawatomies,  he  hastened 
thither,  in  order  to  save,  if  possible,  the  little  garrison 
from  its  doom.  He  was  the  brother  cf  Mrs.  Heald, 
and  having  been  reared  from  childhood  among  the 
savages,  knew  their  character ;  and  some  thing  whis 
pered  him,  "  that  all  was  not  well." 

This  intrepid  warrior  of  the  woods,  hearing  tLat  his 
friends  at  Chicago  were  in  danger,  and  chagrined  at 
the  obstinacy  of  Captain  Heald,  who  was  thus  hazard 
ing  their  safety,  came  thither  to  save  his  friends  cr 
participate  in  their  fate.  He  arrived,  however,  too  laoe 
to  effect  the  former  but  just  in  time  to  effect  the  latter. 
Having,  on  his  arrival,  learned  the  ammunition  had 
been  destroyed,  and  the  provisions  distributed  among 
the  Indians,  he  saw  no  alternative.  Preparations  T?ere 
therefore  made  for  marching  on  the  morrow. 

In  the  afternoon,  a  second  council  was  held  with 
the  Indians,  at  which  they  expressed  their  resentment 
at  the  destruction  of  the  ammunition  and  liquor,  in  the 
severest  terms.  Notwithstanding  the  precautions  which 


176  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

had  been  observed,  the  knocking  in  of  the  heads  of 
the  whiskey  barrels  had  been  heard  by  the  Indians, 
and  the  river  next  morning  tasted,  as  some  of  them 
expressed  it,  "like  strong  grog."  Murmurs  and 
threats  were  every  where  heard ;  and  nothing,  appa 
rently,  was  wanting  but  an  opportunity  for  some 
public  manifestation  of  their  resentment. 

Among  the  chiefs,  there  were  several  who  partici 
pated  in  the  general  hostility  of  their  tribe,  and  re 
tained,  at  the  same  time,  a  regard  for  the  few  white 
inhabitants  of  the  place.  It  was  impossible,  however, 
even  for  them  to  allay  the  savage  feeling  of  the  war 
riors,  when  provocation  after  provocation  had  thus 
been  given ;  and  their  exertions,  therefore,  were 
futile. 

Among  this  class  was  Black  Partridge,  a  chief  of 
some  renown.  Soon  after  the  council  had  adjourned, 
this  magnanimous  warrior  returned  to  the  head-quar 
ters  of  Captain  Heald,  and,  taking  off  a  medal  he  had 
long  worn,  said,  "  Father — I  have  come  to  deliver  up 
to  you  the  medal  I  wear.  It  was  given  me  by  your 
countrymen,  and  I  have  long  worn  it  as  a  token  of 
our  friendship.  Our  young  men  are  resolved  to  im 
brue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  the  whites.  I  cannot 
restrain  them,  and  will  not  wear  a  token  of  peace  when 
compelled  to  act  as  an  enemy." 

Had  doubts  previously  existed,  they  were  now  at 
%n  end.  The  devoted  garrison  continued,  however, 
their  preparations  as  before  ;  and,  amid  the  surround- 


MRS.  LELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.          177 

ing  gloom,  a  few  gallant  spirits  still  cheered  their 
companions  with  hopes  of  security. 

The  ammunition  reserved,  twenty-five  rounds  to 
each  soldier,  was  now  distributed.  The  baggage  wagons 
designed  for  the  sick,  the  women,  and  the  children, 
containing  also  a  box  of  cartridges,  were  now  made 
ready,  and  the  whole  party,  anticipating  a  fatiguing, 
if  not  a  disastrous  march,  on  the  morrow,  retired  to 
enjoy  a  few  moments  precarious  repose. 

The  morning  of  the  15th  dawned  as  usual.  The 
sun  rose  with  uncommon  splendor,  and  Lake  Michigan 
"was  a  sheet  of  burnished  gold."  Early  in  the  day 
a  message  was  received  in  the  American  camp,  from 
To-pee-na-bee,  a  chief  of  the  St.  Joseph's  band,  in 
forming  them  that  mischief  was  brewing  among  the 
Pottawatomies,  who  had  promised  them  protection. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  troops  left  the  fort  with 
martial  music,  and  in  military  array.  Captain  Wells, 
at  the  head  of  the  Miamies,  led  the  van,  his  face  black 
ened  after  the  manner  of  the  Indians.  The  garrison, 
with  loaded  arms,  followed,  and  the  wagons  with  the 
baggage,  the  women  and  children,  the  sick,  and  the 
lame,  closed  the  rear.  The  Pottawatomies,  about  five 
hundred  in  number,  who  had  promised  to  escort  them 
in  safety  to  Fort  Wayne,  leaving  a  little  space,  after 
wards  followed.  The  party  in  advance  took  the  beach 
road.  They  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  sand-hills, 
which  separate  the  prairie  from  the  beach,  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  the  fort,  when  the  Pottawatomies,  in 
12 


178  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

stead  of  continuing  in  rear  of  the  Americans,  left  the 
beach  and  took  to  the  prairie.  The  sand-hills  of  course 
intervened  and  presented  a  barrier  between  the  Potta- 
watomies,  and  the  American  and  Miami  line  of  march. 
This  divergence  had  scarcely  been  effected,  when  Cap 
tain  Wells,  who,  with  the  Miamies,  was  considerably 
in  advance,  rode  back,  and  exclaimed :  "  They  are 
about  to  attack  us ;  form  instantly  and  charge  upon 
them."  The  word  had  scarcely  been  uttered,  before 
a  volley  of  musketry  from  behind  the  sand-hills  was 
poured  in  upon  them.  The  troops  were  brought  im 
mediately  into  a  line,  and  charged  upon  the  bank. 
One  man,  a  veteran  of  seventy,  fell  as  they  ascended. 
The  battle  at  once  became  general.  The  Miamies  fled 
in  the  outset ;  their  chief  rode  up  to  the  Pottawatomies, 
charged  them  with  duplicity,  and  brandishing  his  to 
mahawk,  said,  "  he  would  be  the  first  to  head  a  party 
of  Americans,  and  return  to  punish  them  for  their 
treachery."  He  then  turned  his  horse  and  galloped 
off  in  pursuit  of  his  companions,  who  were  then  scour 
ing  across  the  prairie,  and  nothing  was  seen  or  heard 
of  them  more.* 

While  the  battle  was  raging  some  incidents  oc 
curred,  which  displayed  the  calm  courage  and  com 
plete  presence  of  mind  of  Mrs.  Helm,  the  wife  of 
Lieutenant  Helm.  That  lady  was  in  the  action,  where 
death  was  threatened  on  every  hand.  Doctor  Voor- 
hies,  the  surgeon,  being  badly  wounded,  approached 

*  Brown's  History  of  Illinois, 


MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.          179 

Mrs,  Helm,  and  said,  "Do  you  think  they  will  take 
our  lives  ?  I  am  badly  wounded,  but  I  think  not  mor 
tally.  Perhaps  we  can  purchase  safety  by  offering  a 
large  reward.  Do  you  think,"  continued  he,  "  there 
is  any  chance  ?"  "  Docter  Voorhes,"  replied  Mrs. 
Helm,  "  Let  us  not  waste  the  few  moments  which  yet 
remain,  in  idle  or  ill-founded  hopes.  Our  fate  is  in 
evitable.  We  must  soon  appear  at  the  bar  of  God. 
Let  us  make  such  preparations  as  are  yet  in  our 
power."  "Oh  !"  said  he,  "I  cannot  die.  I  am  unfit 
to  die  !  If  I  had  a  short  time  to  prepare  ! — Death  ! — 
oh,  how  awful!" 

At  this  moment,  Ensign  Roman  was  fighting  at  a 
little  distance,  with  a  tall  and  portly  Indian ;  the  former, 
mortally  wounded,  was  nearly  down,  and  struggling 
desperately  upon  one  knee.  Mrs. Helm,  pointing  her 
finger,  and  directing  the  attention  of  Doctor  Voorhes 
thither,  observed :  "  Look,"  said  she,  "  at  that  young 
man,  he  dies  like  a  soldier." 

"Yes,"  said  Doctor  Voorhes,  "but  he  has  np  terrors 
of  the  future  ;  he  is  an  unbeliever." 

A  young  savage  immediately  raised  his  tomahawk 
to  strike  Mrs.  Helm.  She  sprang  instantly  aside,  and 
the  blow  intended  for  her  head  fell  upon  her  shoulder. 
She  thereupon  seized  him  around  his  neck,  and  while 
exerting  all  her  efforts  to  get  possession  of  his  scalp- 
ing-knife,  was  seized  by  another  Indian,  and  dragged, 
forcibly  from  his  grasp. 

The  latter  bore  her,  struggling  and  resisting,  towards 


180  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  lake.  Notwithstanding,  however,  the  rapidity 
with  which  she  was  hurried  along,  she  recognised,  as 
she  passed,  the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  surgeon, 
stretched  lifeless  on  the  prairie. 

She  was  plunged  immediately  into  the  water,  and 
held  there,  notwithstanding  her  resistance,  with  a  for 
cible  hand.  She  shortly,  however,  perceived  that  the 
intention  of  her  captor  was  not  to  drown  her,  as  he 
held  her  in  a  position  to  keep  her  head  above  the  water. 
Thus  reassured,  she  looked  at  him  attentively,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  disguise,  recognised  the  "white  man's 
friend,"  Black  Partridge. 

When  the  firing  had  ceased,  her  preserver  bore  her 
from  the  water  and  conducted  her  up  the  sand-bank. 
It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  August.  The  heat,  however, 
of  the  sun  was  oppressive ;  and  walking  through  the 
sand,  exposed  to  its  burning  rays,  in  her  drenched 
condition;  weary,  and  exhausted  by  efforts  beyond 
her  strength ;  anxious,  beyond  measure,  to  learn  the 
fate  of  her  friends,  and  alarmed  for  her  own,  her 
situation  was  one  of  agony. 

The  troops  having  fought  with  desperation  till  two- 
thirds  of  their  number  were  slain,  the  remainder  twenty- 
seven  in  all,  borne  down  by  an  overwhelming  force, 
and  exhausted  by  efforts  hitherto  unequalled,  at  length 
surrendered.  They  stipulated,  however,  for  their  own 
safety  and  of  their  remaining  women  and  children.  The 
wounded  prisoners,  however,  in  the  hurry  of  the  mo 
ment  were  unfortunately  omitted,  or  rather  not  par- 


MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.    181 

ticularly  maintained,  and  were  therefore  regarded  by 
the  Indians  as  having  been  excluded. 

One  of  the  soldiers'  wives,  having  frequently  been 
told  that  prisoners  taken  by  the  Indians  were  sub 
jected  to  tortures  worse  than  death,  had  from  the  first 
expressed  a  resolution  never  to  be  taken  ;  and  when  a 
party  of  savages  approached  to  make  her  their  prisoner, 
she  fought  with  desperation,  and  though  assured  of 
kind  treatment  and  protection,  refused  to  surrender, 
and  was  literally  cut  in  pieces,  and  her  mangled  remains 
left  on  the  field. 

After  the  surrender,  one  of  the  baggage  wagon, 
containing  twelve  children,  was  assailed  by  a  single 
savage,  and  the  whole  number  were  massacred.  All, 
without  distinction  of  age  or  sex,  fell  at  once  beneath 
his  murderous  tomahawk. 

Captain  Wells,  who  had  as  yet  escaped  unharmed, 
saw  from  a  distance  the  whole  of  this  murderous  scene, 
and  being  apprised  of  the  stipulation,  and  on  seeing  it 
thus  violated,  exclaimed  aloud,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  the 
Pottawatomies  around  him,  whose  prisoner  he  then  was ; 
"If  this  be  your  game,  I  will  kill  too  !"  and  turning 
his  horse's  head,  instantly  started  for  the  Pottawatomy 
camp,  where  the  squaws  and  Indian  children  had  been 
left  before  the  battle  began. 

He  had  no  sooner  started,  than  several  of  the  Indians 
followed  in  his  rear  and  discharged  their  rifles  at  him, 
as  he  galloped  across  the  prairie.  He  laid  himself  flat 
on  the  neck  of  his  horse,  and  was  apparently  out  of 


182  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

their  reach,  when  the  ball  of  one  of  his  pursuers  took 
effect,  killing  his  horse  and  wounding  him  severely. 
He  was  again  a  prisoner — as  the  savages  came  up, 
Winnemeg  and  Wa-ban-see,  two  of  their  number,  and 
both  his  friends,  used  all  their  endeavors  in  order  to 
save  him ;  they  had  disengaged  him  already  from  his 
horse,  and  were  supporting  him  along,  when  Pee-so- 
tum,  a  Pottawatomy  Indian,  drawing  his  scalping-knife, 
stabbed  him  in  the  back,  and  thus  inflicted  a  mortal 
wound.  After  struggling  for  a  moment,  he  fell,  and 
breathed  his  last  in  the  arms  of  his  friends,  a  victim 
for  those  he  had  sought  to  save. 

The  battle  having  ended,  and  the  prisoners  being 
secured,  the  latter  were  conducted  to  the  Pottawatomy 
camp  near  the  fort.  Here  the  wife  of  Wau-bee-nee- 
mah,  an  Illinois  chief,  perceiving  the  exhausted  con 
dition  of  Mrs.  Helm,  took  a  kettle,  and  dipping  up 
some  water  from  the  stream,  which  flowed  sluggishly 
by  them,  threw  into  it  some  maple  sugar,  and  stirring 
it  up  with  her  hand,  gave  her  to  drink.  "It  was," 
says  Mrs.  Helm,  "  the  most  delicious  draught  I  had 
ever  taken,  and  her  kindness  of  manner,  amid  so  much 
atrocity,  touched  my  heart."  Her  attention,  however, 
was  soon  directed  to  other  objects.  The  fort,  after  the 
troops  had  marched  out,  became  a  scene  of  plunder. 
The  cattle  were  shot  down  as  they  ran  at  large,  and 
lay  dead,  or  were  dying  around  her. 

Most  of  the  wounded  prisoners  were  butchered. 
The  un-wounded  remained  in  the  wigwams  of  their 


MRS.  HELM,  THE  HEROINE  OF  CHICAGO.    183 

captors. '  The  work  of  plunder  being  complete,  the 
fort  next  day  was  set  on  fire.  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Heald,  after  being  exposed  to  many  dangers,  were 
taken  to  Detroit,  where  they  were  finally  exchanged. 
Lieutenant  Helm  was  wounded  in  the  action,  and 
made  prisoner.  He  was  afterwards  taken  by  some 
friendly  Indians  to  the  Au  Sable,  and  thence  to  St. 
Louis,  where  he  was  liberated  from  captivity  through 
the  intervention  of  an  Indian  trader,  named  Forsyth. 
Mrs.  Helm,  who  suffered  from  a  severe  wound  in  the 
ankle,  was  taken  to  Detroit,  where  she  was  exchanged. 
She  lived  for  many  years  after  her  thrilling  adventures, 
and  was  a  highly  respected  lady. 


MES.  PIJBSLEY. 

THE  instances  of  women  voluntarily  encountering 
danger,  that  men  shrink  from  in  the  greatest  dread, 
are  so  rare,  that  every  one  should  be  carefully  re 
corded.  Mrs.  Purley,  the  heroine  of  the  following 
sketch,  was  a  woman  who  only  needed  a  wider  field 
to  become  as  celebrated  as  Joan  of  Arc.  She  must 
be  considered  preeminent,  even  in  the  west  —  that 
region  so  fertile  in  daring  spirits,  and  iron  nerves. 

During  the  war  of  1812,  a  fort  was  erected  about 
twenty  miles  from  Yandalia,  to  protect  the  frontier 
settlements  from  the  Indians.  Lieutenant  Journay 
and  twelve  men  were  assigned  for  its  garrison.  On 
the  30th  of  August,  1814,  Indians  were  discovered 
near  the  fort.  The  next  morning,  before  dawn,  the 
lieutenant  sallied  out  with  his  whole  force.  The  party 
had  not  proceeded  far,  before  a  large  body  of  Indians 
rose  from  an  ambush,  and  fired  a  destructive  volley. 
The  commander  and  three  of  his  men  were  killed,  and 
one  wounded.  Six  returned  in  safety  to  the  fort, 
where  Mrs.  Pursley  had  in  the  meantime  remained 
(184) 


MRS.  PURSLEY.  185 

alone.  One  indomitable  borderer,  named  Thomas 
Higgins,  lingered  outside  of  the  fort  to  have  "  one 
more  pull  at  the  enemy."  His  horse  had  been  shot, 
and  he  had  dismounted,  thinking  the  animal  had  been 
mortally  wounded.  He  discovered  his  error,  but  in 
stead  of  remounting,  and  making  a  rapid  retreat, 
sought  the  shelter  of  a  tree,  and  resolved  to  avenge 
the  death  of  his  comrades. 

The  Indians  caught  sight  of  Higgins  before  he 
could  reach  a  tree  sufficiently  large  to  protect  his 
body,  and  were  advancing  to  attack  him,  when  he 
turned  and  deliberately  shot  the  foremost  savage. 
Somewhat  concealed  by  the  smoke,  the  brave  ranger 
then  re-loaded  his  rifle,  mounted  his  horse,  and  was 
about  to  ride  away,  when  a  voice  exclaimed, 

"Tom,  you  won't  leave  me,  will  you?" 

Higgins  turned  immediately  around,  and  seeing  a 
fellow-soldier  by  the  name  of  Burgess  lying  on  the 
ground,  wounded  and  gasping  for  breath,  replied :  "  No 
I'll  not  leave  you — come  along." 

"  I  can't  come,"  said  Burgess ;  "  my  leg  is  all  smashed 
to  pieces." 

Higgins  dismounted,  and  taking  up  his  friend,  whose 
ankle  had  been  broken,  was  about  to  lift  him  on  his 
horse,  when  the  horse  taking  fright,  darted  off  in  an 
instant,  and  left  Higgins  and  his  friend  behind. 

"This  is  too  bad,"  said  Higgins;  ubut  don't  fear; 
you  hop  off  on  your  three  legs,  and  I'll  stay  behind 
between  you  and  the  Indians,  anri  keep  them  off.  Get 


186  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

into  the  tallest  grass,  and  crawl  as  near  the  ground  as 
possible."  Burgess  did  so,  and  escaped. 

The  smoke,  which  had  hitherto  concealed  Higgins, 
now  cleared  away,  and  he  resolved,  if  possible,  to  re 
treat.  To  follow  the  track  of  Burgess  was  most  ex 
pedient.  It  would,  however,  endanger  his  friend. 

He  determined,  therefore,  to  venture  boldly  forward, 
arid,  if  discovered,  to  secure  his  own  safety  by  the  ra 
pidity  of  Ms  flight.  On  leaving  a  small  thicket,  in 
which  he  had  sought  refuge,  he  discovered  a  tall,  portly 
savage  near  by,  and  two  others  in  a  direction  between 
him  and  the  fort.  He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  thought 
if  he  could  seperate  and  fight  them  singly,  his  case 
was  not  so  desperate. 

He  then  started  for  a  little  run  of  water  which  was 
near,  but  found  one  of  his  limbs  failing  him — it  having 
been  struck  by  a  ball  in  the  first  encounter,  of  which, 
till  now,  he  was  scarcely  conscious. 

The  largest  Indian  pressed  close  upon  him,  and 
Higgins  turned  round  two  or  three  times  in  order  to 
fire.  The  Indian  halted  and  danced  about  to  prevent 
his  taking  aim.  Higgins  saw  it  was  unsafe  to  fire  at 
random,  and  perceiving  two  others  approaching,  knew 
he  must  be  overpowered  in  a  moment,  unless  he  could 
dispose  of  the  forward  Indian  first.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  to  halt  and  receive  his  fire.  The  Indian 
raised  his  rifle  ;  and  Higgins,  watching  his  eye,  turned 
suddenly,  as  his  finger  pressed  the  trigger,  and  received 
the  ball  in  his  thigh. 


MRS.  PURSLEY.  187 

Higgins  fell,  but  rose  immediately,  and  ran.  The 
foremost  Indian,  now  certain  of  his  prey,  loaded  again, 
and  with  the  other  two,  pressed  on.  They  overtook 
him — Higgins  fell  again,  and  as  he  rose,  the  whole 
three  fired,  and  he  received  all  their  balls.  He  now 
fell  and  rose  again ;  and  the  Indians,  throwing  away 
their  guns,  advanced  upon  him  with  spears  and  knives. 
As  he  presented  his  gun  at  one  or  the  other,  each  fell 
back.  At  last,  the  largest  Indian,  supposing  Higgins's 
gun  to  be  empty,  from  his  fire  having  been  thus  re 
served,  advanced  boldly  to  the  charge.  Higgins  fired, 
and  the  savage  fell. 

He  had  now  four  bullets  in  his  body — an  empty  gun 
in  his  hand — two  Indians  unharmed,  as  yet,  before 
him — and  a  whole  tribe  but  a  few  yards  distant.  Any 
other  man  but  Higgins  would  have  despaired.  But  he 
had  no  notion  of  surrendering  yet.  He  had  slain  the 
most  dangerous  of  the  three  ;  and  having  but  little  to 
fear  from  the  others,  began  to  load  his  rifle.  They  raised 
a  savage  whoop,  and  rushed  to  the  encounter ;  keeping 
at  a  respectful  distance  when  Higgin's  rifle  was  loaded, 
but  when  they  knew  it  was  empty,  "  they  were  better 
soldiers." 

A  bloody  conflict  now  ensued.  The  Indians  stabbed 
him  in  several  places.  Their  spears,  however,  were 
but  thin  poles,  hastily  prepared  for  the  occasion,  and 
bent  whenever  they  struck  a  rib  or  muscle.  The  wounds 
they  made  were  not,  therefore,  deep,  though  numerous, 
as  his  scars  sufficiently  testified. 


188  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

At  last  one  of  them  threw  his  tomahawk.  It  struck 
him  upon  the  cheek,  passed,  through  his  ear,  which  it 
severed,  laid  bare  his  skull  to  the  back  of  his  head; 
and  stretched  him  upon  the  prairie.  The  Indians  again 
rushed  on ;  but  Higgins,  recovering  his  self-possession, 
kept  them  off  with  his  feet  and  hands.  Grasping  at 
length  one  of  their  spears,  the  Indian,  in  attempting 
to  pull  it  from  him,  raised  Higgins  up ;  who,  taking 
up  his  rifle,  smote  the  nearest  savage,  and  dashed  out 
his  brains.  In  doing  so,  however,  his  rifle  broke — 
the  barrel  only  remaining  in  his  hand. 

The  other  Indian,  who  had  hitherto  fought  with 
caution,  came  now  manfully  into  the  battle.  His  cha 
racter  as  a  warrior  was  in  jeopardy.  To  have  fled  from 
a  man  thus  wounded  and  disarmed,  or  to  have  suffered 
his  victim  to  escape,  would  have  tarnished  his  fame 
for  ever. 

Uttering,  therefore,  a  terrific  yell,  he  rushed  on,  and 
attempted  to  stab  the  exhausted  ranger ;  but  the  latter 
warded  off  his  blow  with  one  hand,  and  brandished 
his  rifle-barrel  with  the  other. 

The  Indian  was  as  yet  unharmed,  and  under  ex 
isting  circumstances,  by  far  the  most  powerful  man. 
Jliggins's  courage,  however,  was  unexhausted.  The 
savage,  at  last,  began  to  retreat  from  the  glare  of  his 
untamed  eye,  to  the  spot  where  he  dropped  his  rifle. 
Higgins  knew  that  if  he  recovered  that,  his  own  case 
was  desperate;  throwing,  therefore,  his  rifle  barrel 
aside,  and  drawing  his  hunting-knife,  he  rushed  upon 


MRS.  PURSLEY.  189 

his  foe.  A  desperate  strife  ensued — deep  gashes  were 
inflicted  on  both  sides.  Higgins,  fatigued,  and  ex 
hausted  by  the  loss  of  blood,  was  no  longer  a  match 
for  the  savage.  The  latter  succeeded  in  throwing  his 
adversary  from  him,  and  went  immediately  in  pursuit 
of  his  rifle.  "Higgins,  at  the  same  time,  rose  and  sought 
for  the  gun  of  the  other  Indian.  Both,  therefore, 
bleeding  and  out  of  breath,  were  in  search  of  arms  to 
renew  the  combat.  A  party  of  Indians  were  in  sight. 
The  smoke  had  now  cleared,  and  a  party  of  Indians 
were  coming  up.  Nothing,  it  seemed,  could  save  the 
gallant  ranger.  The  little  garrison  had  witnessed 
the  whole  combat.  Mrs.  Pursley  urged,  with  much 
vehemence,  that  some  of  the  men  should  attempt  to 
rescue  their-  brave  comrade.  To  the  rangers  it  seemed 
too  much  like  rushing  in  the  face  of  death.  They 
shrank  from  the  task  and  were  deaf  to  all  Mrs.  Pur- 
sley's  entreaties,  as  well  as  taunts.  The  heroic  woman 
was  not  to  be  turned  from  a  noble  purpose.  Finding 
that  the  men  would  not  stir  from  the  fort,  she  seized 
a  rifle,  and  declaring  that  "  so  fine  a  fellow  as  Tom 
Higgins  should  not  be  lost  for  want  of  help,"  mounted 
»  horse  and  rode  forth  to  the  rescue.  The  men  were 
thereby  shamed  into  action.  To  be  outdone  by  a 
woman  was  too  great  a  degradation.  They  followed 
Mrs.  Pursley  at  full  gallop,  reached  the  spot  where 
Higgins  fainted  and  fell,  before  the  Indians  came  up  ; 
and  while  the  savage  with  whom  he  had  been  con- 
tending  was  looking  for  his  rifle,  the  wounded  ranger 


190  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

was  raised  upon  a  horse  and  carried  safely  into  the 
fort. 

Higgins  continued  insensible  for  several  days,  but 
his  life  was  saved  by  constant  care  and  attendance. 
To  the  brave  woman  who  preserved  him  from  death, 
after  his  own  desperate  and  astonishing  efforts  had 
ceased  to  avail  him,  he  was  ever  profoundly  grateful. 
Mrs.  Pursley  deserved  a  monument,  but  it  is  only  of 
late  years  that  justice  has  been  so  far  awarded  to  her 
memory  as  to  record  her  noble  deed. 


MARY  HART. 

THE  following  narrative  is  copied  from  the  New 
York  Knickerbocker.  It  was  derived  from  an  officer 
of  General  Wellborji's  corps,  who  was  in  battle  with 
the  Creek  Indians,  as  below  narrated,  and  an  .eye 
witness  of  the  remarkable  events  here  recorded.  The 
whole  affords  but  another  proof,  that  truth  is  indeed 
often  stronger  than  fiction. 

The  Creek  war  of  1836-37  was  a  most  barbarous 
one,  and  continued  nearly  two  years.  The  Creek 
population  comprehended  in  the  treaty  for  emigration 
westward,  was  about  twenty-two  thousand  souls,  about 
two  thousand  of  whom,  warriors,  broke  the  treaty, 
and  commenced  hostilities  in  May,  1836,  by  an  attack 
on  the  town  of  Roanoke,  in  the  night,  butchering  its 
inhabitants,  putting  them  to  flight,  and  pillaging  and 
setting  fire  to  their  habitations.  The  terrors  of  an 
affrighted  population,  once  exposed  to  Indian  barba 
rities,  can  hardly  be  conceived.  Rumor  follows  quick 
upon  the  heels  of  rumor ;  yet  no  story  can  exceed  the 
horrors  of  Indian  warfare,  as  it  is  impossible  for  Ian 

(191) 


192  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

guage  adequately  to  depict  its  realities.  It  is  stated 
of  a  man  in  flight  with  his  family  from  a  supposed  pur 
suit  of  Indians  in  this  war,  that  having  got  fresh  in 
telligence  of  alarm  by  the  less  hasty  flight  of  others 
who  had  overtaken  him,  he  took  up  his  boy  from  be 
hind  his  wagon,  tossed  him  in,  and  ran  forward  to 
whif>  up  his  team,  when  lo  !  at  the  place  of  stopping, 
he  found  that  the  violence  of  his  action  to  save  his 
son  had  killed  him  by  breaking  his  neck ! 

When  General  Jessup  had  reported  the  Creek  war 
at  an  end,  and  drawn  off  his  troops  into  Florida,  to 
act  against  the  Seminoles,  contrary  to  the  remon 
strances  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  state  of  Ala 
bama — who  assured  him  that  the  Indians  were  not  all 
subdued,  but  that  some  hundreds  were  still  lurking  in 
their  hiding-places — the  war  broke  out  afresh,  with 
increased  barbarity ;  and  the  Governor  of  Alabama, 
the  Hon.  Clement  C.  Clay,  was  forced  to  act  with 
great  vigor  in  mustering  fresh  troops  for  the  exigency, 
by  enlisting  the  citizens  of  the  state  into  the  service 
of  the  United  States.  General  William  Wellborn  re 
ceived  the  command,  and  acquitted  himself  with  great 
valor  and  honor,  to  the  end  of  the  war. 

Sometime  in  the  winter  of  1836-37,  General  Well 
born  heard  of  an  encampment  of  Indians  on  the  banks 
of  the  Pee  river,  near  its  confluence  with  Pee  creek, 
between  the  forks.  With  a  company  of  two  hundred 
mounted  men,  he  set  off  in  search  of  the  foe.  Having 
discovered  and  reconnoitred  their  position,  from  the 


MARY  HART.  193 

west  bank  of  the  Pee,  without  being  observed,  he  left 
one  hundred  and  twenty  of  his  troops  on  the  higher 
grounds,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  river,  at  a  point 
by  which  the  Indians  must  retreat,  if  dislodged,  with 
instructions  to  cut  them  off  whenever  they  should  be 
driven  in  upon  them.  With  the  remainder,  ninety 
men,  he  descended  the  river  a  few  miles,  and  crossed 
on  a  bridge,  below  the  confluence  of  the  two  streams, 
with  the  view  to  come  round  and  attack  the  Indians 
by  surprise.  Having  made  his  way  across  Pee  creek, 
he  found  the  access  greatly  impeded  by  low  and  wet 
grounds,  it  being  a  time  of  high  water,  and  several 
lagoons,  or  channels,  running  from  one  river  to  the 
other,  and  at  this  time  flooded ;  canebrakes  and  pal 
metto  thickets  were  to  be  broken  through,  and  various 
obstacles,  peculiar  to  that  wild  retreat,  interposed. 
Nevertheless,  the  bravery  and  determination  of  the 
troops  surmounted  all  impediments,  and  they  arrived 
at  last  on  the  bank  of  a  lagoon,  on  the  other  side  of 
which  was  the  Indian  encampment,  themselves  screened 
from  observation  by  a  grove  of  palmettoes,  and  by 
favorable  grounds. 

At  this  moment  a  firing  was  heard  in  the  direction 
of  the  place  were  the  one  hundred  and  twenty  troops 
had  been  left,  and  it  was  manifest,  as  none  but  women 
and  children  were  to  be  seen  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  lagoon,  that  the  Indians  had  discovered  the  whites 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Pee,  and  had  themselves  be 
come  the  assailants.  This  was  the  more  painful  to 
13 


194  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

observe,  as  the  firing  grew  rapidly  more  distant,  an 
indication  that  the  Indians  were  victorious  and  in 
pursuit. 

General  Wellborn  instantly  conceived  the  project, 
as  retreat  was  impossible,  of  placing  his  men  in  line 
as  near  the  bank  of  the  lagoon  as  he  could,  for  a  des 
perate  onset  on  the  return  of  the  Indians ;  and  having 
given  his  orders,  he  retired  to  an  eminence  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  and  showed  himself  to  the  women, 
who  instantly  raised  tjie  cry  of  "  Esta-Hadka  !  Esta- 
Hadka!"  "White  man!  White  man !  "—pointing 
to  General  Wellborn,  on  the  distant  eminence.  This 
alarm  was  rapidly  conveyed  by  runners  to  the  Indians 
now  engaged  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pee,  and  as  soon 
as  possible,  some  three  hundred  warriors  or  more  came 
lushing  back,  flushed  with  victory,  and  full  of  ven 
geance.  They  seemed  to  know  that  they  had  routed 
the  largest  body  of  their  opponents,  and  were  eager 
to  find  the  remainder.  It  was  a  critical  moment  when 
they  stood  upon  the  open  ground,  within  gun-shot  of 
General  Wellborn's  men,  on  the  other  bank  of  the 
lagoon,  demanding  of  the  women  where  they  had  seen 
the  white  man.  The  Indians  knew  that  the  lagoon  was 
fordable,  but  their  opponents  did  not.  At  the  moment 
they  were  about  to  rush  in,  and  at  a  given  signal,  a 
well-directed  fire  was  pored  in  upon  them  from  the 
whole  line,  and  they  fell  back,  with  a  shout  of  terroi 
and  discomfiture,  into  a  pine  wood,  about  forty  roda 
distant,  leaving  a  number  of  their  dead  upon  the  field. 


MARY  HART.  195 

It  was  evident  that  the  fire  told  well,  but  no  lesa 
certain  that  the  foe  would  soon  rally,  and  return  with 
confidence  of  victory.  They  knew  there  was  no  es 
cape  for  the  white  man,  and  that  they  had  driven 
from  the  field  his  strongest  force.  Violent  speeches 
of  the  chiefs  and  warriors  were  heard  and  understood. 
In  about  forty  minutes,  a  hideous  yell  of  onset  rang 
through  the  forest,  and  the  entire  array  of  the  Indian 
force  leaped  upon  the  bank  of  the  lagoon,  to  cross  and 
drive  their  assailants  by  closer  fight.  At  that  moment 
they  received  a  second  time  the  whole  fire  of  General 
Wellborn's  men  from  behind  the  palmettoes,  halted, 
staggered,  and  again  fell  back  into  the  woods,  leaving 
the  ground  strewed  with  their  slain.  Again  the  rally 
ing  speeches  were  heard,  and  General  Wellborn  saw 
that  he  and  his  men  must  transfer  the  action  to  the 
other  bank,  or  perish  before  a  superior  force.  Believing 
from  the  demonstrations  of  the  Indians,  that  the  lagoon 
was  fordable,  he  ordered  two  men,  at  different  points, 
to  make  the  attempt,  and  if  they  succeeded,  the  whole 
corps  were  to  plunge  in,  form  upon  the  opposite  bank, 
and  rush  upon  the  foe. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment,  and  every  man 
was  in  line.  The  conflict  was  desperate  and  bloody. 
Women  fought  and  fell  with  the  men.  A  single  white 
man  encounted  a  warrior  and  two  of  his  wives,  all  three 
of  whom  were  laid  dead  at  his  feet,  by  a  necessity 
which  he  could  not  avoid,  in  self-preservation.  The 
Indians  fled  across  a  bridge  of  trees,  which  they  had 


I9o  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

thrown  over  the  Pee,  fighting  and  falling  in  their  re 
treat;  and  all  that  could  were  soon  out  of  the  battle, 
leaving  behind  them  camp  and  spoils,  the  wounded, 
the  dying,  and  the  dead.  Seventy-three  warriors, 
averaging  six  feet  and  two  inches  in  height,  were 
counted  among  the  slain. 

An  old  chief,  Apothlo-Oholo,  who  afterward  es 
caped  in  the  night,  being  entirely  disabled  by  the  shot 
he  had  received  in  various  parts  of  his  body,  fell  into 
the  river,  as  he  was  attempting  to  cross  the  bridge  of 
trees.  He  clung  to  the  branches,  and  buried  himself 
entirely  under  water,  while  the  victors  were  crossing 
and  re-crossing  during  and  after  the  action. 

He  lived  to  recover  of  his  wounds,  joined  his  party, 
and  afterwards  made  the  following  speech  to  General 
Wellborn,  at  Conchatto-Mecco's  Town,  when  about  to 
emigrate  with  his  people : 

"You  are  a  Great  Chief.  I  have  fought  you  as 
long  as  I  could.  You  have  beaten  me.  You  have 
killed  and  taken  nearly  all  my  people.  I  am  now 
ready  to  go :  the  farther  from  you  the  better.  We 
cannot  be  friends.  I  thank  you  for  taking  care  of 
my  women,  children,  and  wounded  warriors,  and  for 
sending  them  back  to  me.  You  are  a  Great  Chief!" 

In  the  sleeve  of  the  coat  of  Apothlo-Oholo,  after 
the  battle,  were  found  twenty-eight  hundred  dollars 
in  gold ;  and  many  spoils  that  had  been  taken  from 
murdered  white  families,  or  pillaged  from  their  de- 
Bertea  homes,  were  recovered.  A  roll  of  bank  notcu 


MART  HART.  197 

was  also  found.  Most  of  the  Indian  ponies  were  left 
behind,  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day  was  consumed 
in  making  arrangements  for  a  vigorous  pursuit  of  the 
routed  Indians.  Nine  of  the  ninety  engaged  in  this 
attack  were  killed.  The  bodies  of  the  Indians,  were 
left  without  burial.  The  exasperated  troops,  them 
selves  citizens  of  a  commonwealth  doomed  to  the  hor^ 
rible  atrocities  of  an  Indian  war,  with  their  families 
exposed,  many  of  whom  had  already  suffered,  must 
stand  as  an  apology  for  not  paying  to  a  fallen  enemy 
the  usual  respect  of  civilized  warfare.  It  was  a  scene 
of  carnage,  left  to  the  face  of  the  sun,  and  to  the  eyes 
of  the  stars. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  a  pursuit  of  the 
retreating  foe  was  ordered,  the  trail  of  which  led 
them  down  the  Pee,  to  the  plantation  of  two  brothers, 
Josiah  and  Robert  Hart,  about  forty  miles  below  the 
battle-ground.  As  they  approached  these  settlements, 
it  needed  no  prophet's  ken  to  anticipate  the  fate  of 
these  unhappy  families.  The  Indians,  still  counting  less 
than  two  hundred  warriors,  came  upon  them  the  second 
night. 

Josiah  Hart  had  a  wife,  a  son,  and  two  daughters, 
the  youngest  of  whom,  Mary,  was  nine  years  of  age. 
The  family  of  Robert  Hart,  living  about  a  mile  from 
his  brother,  consisted  of  himself,  two  sons,  a  married 
daughter,  and  son-in-law.  The  log  cabin  of  Robert, 
as  is  usual,  in  that  country,  was  built  in  two  separate 
parts  with  an  open  space  or  court  between,  over  which 
17* 


198  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  roof  of  the  building  extended,  the  door  of  each 
part  being  in  the  middle  of  this  court,  opposite  to  each 
other.  Aware  of  the  da'ngers  to  which  he  was  exposed, 
Mr.  Hart  had  "  Chinked"  the  logs,  before  open,  and 
admitting  of  being  fired  through  by  the  musketry  or 
rifles  of  an  enemy,  leaving  here  and  there  a  port-hole, 
through  which  the  tenants  might  be  able  to  repulse 
assailants.  He  was  also  provided  with  nine  pieces  of 
fire-arms,  rifles,  double-barrel  and  others,  kept  con 
stantly  charged,  and  ready  for  a  sudden  emergency. 
In  one  of  these  buildings,  the  whole  family  slept  by 
their  arms  and  ammunition,  while  the  watch  dog  kept 
his  post  without. 

At  the  mid-hour  of  this  fatal  night,  they  were  sud 
denly  awakened  by  the  earnest  barking  of  the  dog, 
and  the  simultaneous  yells  of  the  Indians.  The  dog 
was  soon  silenced  by  the  rifles  of  the  savages  ;  and  the 
subsequent  stillness  without,  except  when  interrupted 
by  the  occasional  light  tread  or  sudden  bound  of  the 
wily  foe  around  the  house,  reconnoitring,  in  prepara 
tion  for  the  execution  of  his  purpose,  was  fearful, 
Having  failed  in  their  usual  stratagem  of  driving  out 
the  tenants  of  the  house  in  affright,  by  the  yells  of  the 
onset,  in  an  opposite  direction,  where  they  would  be 
sure  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  party  in  ambush,  they 
sought  opportunity  to  make  an  attack  through  the 
crevices  of  the  logs  which  composed  the  walls  of  the 
building.  Not  succeeding  in  this,  for  the  reason  before 
mentioned,  and  not  venturing  yet  to  enter  the  court, 


MARY  HART.  199 

ror  fear  of  a  fire  from  within,  which  had  not  yet  opened 
upon  them,  their  next  device  was,  to  kindle  a  fire  undei 
the  side  of  the  dwelling,  by  which,  if  successful,  they 
were  sure  of  their  prey.  This,  however,  they  could 
not  well  do  in  the  dark,  without  becoming  marks  for 
an  unseen  hand.  Accordingly,  the  first  attempt  proved 
fatal  to  those  engaged  in  it,  and  two  or  three  Indians 
fell  before  the  sure  aim  of  the  rifle  from  within  the 
walls.  Hour  after  hour,  in  painful  suspense  passed 
away,  with  now  and  then  a  shot  from  either  party,  to 
little  or  to  no  purpose,  except  that  a  chance  ball  from 
an  Indian  rifle,  found  its  way  between  the  logs,  and 
wounded  Mr.  Hart's  daughter  in  the  arm.  Not  daring 
to  strike  a  light,  they  endeavored  as  well  as  they  could, 
to  bind  it  up,  and  to  staunch  the  blood.  At  length  a 
lurid  light  cast  upon  the  clouds,  discovered  to  Mr.  Hart 
his  brother's  house  in  flames,  and  a  yell  of  triumph 
broke  from  the  horde  of  savages  by  whom  he  and  his 
children  were  environed,  secure,  though  less  successful 
hitherto,  in  accomplishing  the  same  object.  The  flames 
rose  higher,  and  threw  upon  his  besieged  habitation  a 
flood  of  light,  that  compelled  the  besiegers  to  retire 
behind  the  out-houses  for  protection,  as  they  would 
otherwise  be  exposed  to  the  fire  of  Mr.  Hart  and  his 
sons. 

Day  dawned  at  last,  and  a  desultory  fire  was  com 
menced,-  as  chance  invited,  and  as  an  Indian  head  was 
exposed  to  view.  Several  of  the  Indians  fell.  Exas 
perated  by  these  failures,  they  resolved  to  set  the  house 


SOC  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

on  fire  at  any  hazard.  They  collected  combustibles, 
chose  their  position,  and  rushed  with  fire  and  kindling- 
wood  under  the  stick  chimney  of  the  house,  where,  as 
it  happened  the  rifles  from  within  could  not  be  brought 
to  bear.  The  smoke  was  soon  felt  in  the  house,  and 
not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost.  Despair  finds  weapons  ; 
and  by  the  concert  of  an  instant,  a  bold  device  was 
projected,  to  strike  the  frail  chimney-back  on  the  heads 
of  the  Indians,  and  by  a  sudden  sortie,  drive  them 
from  the  field,  to  purchase  to  themselves  an  opportu 
nity  of  escape  to  the  fort,  about  seven  miles  distant. 
Tt  was  done.  Three  or  four  Indians  were  killed,  and 
the  rest  fled.  In  some  two  hours  after,  Mr.  Hart  and 
his  children  were  all  safely  lodged  in  the  fort,  hav 
ing  left  their  house  to  pillage  and  flames,  to  which  it 
was  doomed  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  so  soon  as 
the  Indians  had  mustered  a  stronger  force,  and  re 
turned  to  renew  the  attack.  Plunder  was  all  they 
bad  to  enjoy. 

About  thirty-six  hours  after  the  Indians  had  quitted 
the  plantation  of  the  Harts,  which  they  had  left  a 
scene  of  ruin  and  of  carnage,  and  descended  the  river, 
little  dreaming  of  being  pursued  by  the  party  whoso 
Dower  they  had  felt  two  days  before,  General  Wellborn 
and  his  men  came  in  sight  of  the  smoking  ruins  of 
Josiah  Hart's  habitation  and  out-houses.  Not  a  living 
creature  moved  before  their  eyes,  and  every  aspect 
was  that  of  desolation.  From  a  party  in  advance,  so 
soon  as  they  approached  the  ruins,  a  cry  of  horror 


MARY  HART.  201 

and  vengeance  arose,  which  broke  the  awful  silence 
of  the  place ;  and  each  one,  as  he  came  near,  was 
petrified  at  the  spectacle  which  was  presented. 

In  the  yard,  a  few  rods  from  the  house,  lay  the 
mangled  and  naked  bodies  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hart, 
their  son  and  eldest  daughter ;  and  a  little  removed 
from  them,  the  body  of  Mary,  also  naked,  with  her 
skull  broken  in  apparently  by  a  pine-knot,  which  lay 
by  her  side,  covered  with  hair  and  blood.  She  was 
lying  upon  her  side,  her  person  stabbed  in  several 
places,  from  head  to  foot;  and  the  blood  of  each 
wound  extending  in  unbroken  coagulation  to  the 
ground,  which  had  drunk  the  crimson  streams.  The 
sight  of  Mary  was  not  so  fearful  as  that  of  the  rest  of 
family,  though  sufficiently  shocking.  It  was  evident, 
that  she  had  never  struggled  or  moved,  from  the  mo 
ment  she  was  left  in  that  position,  thirty-six  hours 
before.  With  the  exception  of  her  wounds,  her 
appearance  was  that  of  an  innocent,  marble  repose. 

The  mutilated  and  mangled  condition  of  the  other 
members  of  the  family  was  too  horrible  to  be  recorded. 
Mr.  Hart  had  been  pierced  with  many  balls ;  Mrs. 
Hart  with  less  ;  each  had  been  shot,  and  all  were 
covered  and  disfigured  with  ghastly  wounds.  The 
spectacle  filled  the  men  with  absolute  madness.  They 
raved,  stamped,  ran  to  and  fro,  struck  the  trees  and 
stones  with  their  clenched  hands,  until  the  blood  fol 
lowed  from  their  blows,  without  seeming  to  feel  the 
wounds  they  had  inflicted  on  themselves ;  and  they 


202  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

cried,  "Vengeance!  vengeance!  vengeance!"  till 
all  the  region  rang  with  it,  and  loud  enough  to  awake 
the  sleeping  dead. 

And  it  did  awake  the  dead !  Surrounded  at  this 
moment  by  a  throng  of  these  exasperated  beholders, 
who  were  looking  upon  her  innocent  countenance,  and 
raising  those  fearful  cries,  but  not  having  yet  pre 
sumed  to  touch  this  relic  of  mortality,  little  Mary 
Hart  opened  her  eyes,  turned  up  her  face,  and  said, 
audibly  and  distinctly,  "  How  they  did  beat  us !"  and 
then  closed  her  eyes,  and  turned  back,  clasped  again 
in  the  same  silent  and  death-like  repose ! 

The  moment  was  awful,  and  the  feeling  of  the  spec 
tators  entirely  changed.  The  innocent  victim  was 
carefully  approached,  tenderly  lifted  up,  her  wounds 
bathed,  and  the  proper  surgical  applications  applied. 
On  examination,  it  was  found  that  life  was  not  ex 
tinct  ;  but  she  was  so  literally  drained  of  her  blood, 
that  no  symptom  of  reviving  animation  could  be 
awakened.  She  was  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  and  care 
fully  carrie  I  on  horseback,  in  the  arms  of  General 
Wellborn,  t  :>  the  fort,  with  little  more  sign  of  life  than 
when  first  taken  from  the  ground,  and  was  committed 
to  the  charge  of  her  uncle  and  his  family,  whose 
escape  has  already  been  narrated. 

The  troops  started  off  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  flying 
foe,  and  after  two  days'  march,  overtook  them  in 
Florida.  Thirty-nine  of  them  were  slain  in  the  en 
gagement  that  ensued;  many  prisoners  were  taken, 


MARY  HART.  203 

with  the  booty  from  the  pillaged  houses  of  the  Harts ; 
and  the  rest  took  flight  to  the  town  of  Canchatto- 
Mecco,  were  they  surrendered  for  emigration,  and  the 
Creek  war  was  ended. 

Mary  Hart,  by  means  of  tender  nursing,  and  the 
restoring  powers  of  nature,  gradually  recovered.  The 
indenture  in  the  skull  proved  not  to  be  a  fracture, 
and  she  is  now  as  well  as  if  the  massacre  had  never 
happened. 


A  YOUNG  HEKOINE. 

IN  September,  1840,  a  small  party  of.  Indians  ap 
peared  in  Washington  county,  Florida,  and  killed  the 
•wife  of  Mr.  Wiley  Jones,  and  two  of  his  children.  This 
gave  occasion  to  a  remarkable  display  of  heroism  in  a 
very  young  girl.  The  affair  is  narrated  as  follows  in 
the  Tallahassee  Floridian. 

Mr.  Jones,  on  returning  from  one  of  his  fields,  about 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  when  within  two  hun 
dred  yards  of  the  house,  heard  four  or  five  rifles  fired 
in  his  yard,  he  ran  for  the  house,  and  on  rising  the 
hill,  found  the  house  surrounded  by  Indians,  and 
eight  or  ten  in  the  piazza.  The  Indians  discovered 
him  at  that  moment,  and  pursued  him,  firing  and 
whooping  at  him  like  devils.  Being  entirely  unarmed, 
Tfithout  even  a  knife  to  defend  himself,  he  fled,  and 
escaped  in  the  hammock. 

Mr.  Jones's  daughter,  a  girl  of  about  thirteen  years 

of  age,  states  that  her  mother,  a  negro  woman,  and 

four  children  were  in  the  house  when  the  Indians  were 

discovered  in  the  yard.     Mrs.  Jones  caught  up  the 

(204) 


A  YOUNG  HEROINE.  205 

youngest  child,  and  was  shot  in  attempting  to  escape 
out  of  the  door,  struck  by  three  balls,  one  passing 
through  the  head  of  the  child  in  her  arms. 

The  daughter  above  mentioned  took  the  two  children, 
and,  while  the  Indians  were  ransacking  and  plunder 
ing  the  house,  passed  out  unmolested,  and  hid  them 
in  the  bushes.  The  little  heroine  then  returned  to 
the  house,  in  the  midst  of  the  Indians,  helped  her 
mother  up,  who  was  lying  in  the  porch,  and  assisted 
her  about  three  hundred  yards  into  the  field,  when 
becoming  faint  from  the  loss  of  blood,  the  little  girl 
left  her  in  search  of  water.  She  returned  with  it,  but 
her  mother,  after  drinking,  died  in  a  few  moments. 
She  then  covered  her  mother  and  the  dead  infant  with 
bushes,  and  carried  the  remaining  children  to  the 
nearest  neighbor.  The  Indians  destroyed  all  tha 
furniture  and  stole  about  three  hundred  dollars. 


MRS.  DAVIESS. 

DAVIESS  is  a  name  written  boldly  in  the  heroic  annals 
»f  the  west.  Noble  men  and  women — chiefly  the 
children  of  Kentucky — have  contributed  brave  and 
generous  deeds  to  render  it  brilliant  and  undying.  The 
Mrs.  Daviess,  whose  heroic  acts  we  are  now  about  to 
record,  was  a  glorious  example  to  her  sex.  Firm,  cool, 
and  fertile  of  resource  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and  gentle 
and  amiable  by  the  peaceful  fireside. 

In  the  fall  of  the  year  1779,  Samuel  Daviess,  who 
resided  in  Bedford  county,  Virginia,  moved  with  his 
family  to  Kentucky,  and  lived  for  a  time,  at  Whitley's 
station,  in  Lincoln.  After  residing  for  some  time  in 
the  station,  he  removed  with  his  family  to  a  place  called 
Gilmer's  Lick,  some  six  or  seven  miles  distant  from 
said  station,  where  he  built  a  cabin,  cleared  some  land, 
which  he  put  in  corn  next  season,  not  apprehending 
any  danger  from  the  Indians,  although  he  was  con 
sidered  a  frontier  settler.  But  this  imaginary  state  of 
security  did  not  last  long;  for  on  a  morning  in  the 
month  of  August,  in  the  year  1782,  having  stepped  a 
(206) 


MRS.  DAVIESS.  207 

few  paces  from  his  door,  he  was  suddenly  surprised  by 
an  Indian's  appearing  between  him  and  the  door,  witt 
tomahawk  uplifted,  almost  within  striking  distance. 
In  this  unexpected  condition,  and  being  entirely  un 
armed,  his  first  thought  was,  that  by  running  round 
the  house,  he  could  enter  the  door  in  safety,  but  to  his 
surprise,  in  attempting  to  effect  this  object,  as  he  ap 
proached  the  door  he  found  the  house  full  of  Indians. 
Being  closely  pursued  by  the  Indian  first  mentioned, 
he  made  his  way  into  the  cornfield,  where  he  concealed 
himself,  with  much  difficulty,  until  the  pursuing  Indian 
had  returned  to  the  house. 

Unable  as  he  was  to  render  any  relief  to  his  family 
(there  being  five  Indians,)  he  ran  with  the  utmost  speed 
to  the  station  of  his  brother  James  Daviess — a  distance 
of  five  miles.  As  he  approached  the  station — his  un 
dressed  condition  told  the  tale  of  his  distresses,  before 
he  was  able  to  tell  it  himself.  Almost  breathless,  and 
with  a  faltering  voice,  he  could  only  say,  his  wife  and 
children  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians.  Scarcely 
was  the  communication  made  when  he  obtained  a  sparo 
gun,  and  the  five  men  in  the  station,  well  armed,  fol 
lowed  him  to  his  residence.  When  they  arrived  at  his 
house,  the  Indians,  as  well  as  the  family,  were  found 
to  be  gone,  and  no  evidence  appeared  that  any  of  the 
family  had  been  killed.  A  search  was  made  to  find 
the  direction  th  3  Indians  had  taken  ,  but  owing  to  the 
dryness  cf  the  ground,  and  tne  adroit  manner  in  which 
they  had  departed,  no  discovery  could  be  made  !  In 


208  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

this  state  of  perplexity,  the  party  being  all  good  woods 
men,  took  that  direction  in  pursuit  of  the  Indians, 
which  they  thought  it  most  probable,  they  would  take. 
After  going  a  few  miles,  their  attention  was  arrested 
by  the  howling  of  a  dog,  which  afterwards  turned  out 
to  be  a  house-dog  that  had  followed  the  family,  and 
which  the  Indians  had  undertaken  to  kill,  so  as  to 
avoid  detection,  which  might1  happen  from  his  occa 
sionally  barking.  In  attempting  to  kill  the  dog,  he 
was  only  wounded,  which  produced  the  howling  that 
was  heard,  and  satisfied  them  that  they  were  near  the 
Indians,  and  enabled  them  to  rush  forward  with  the  ut 
most  impetuosity.  Two  of  the  Indians  being  in  the 
rear  as  spies,  discovering  the  approach  of  the  party, 
ran  forward  to  where  the  Indians  were  with  the  family- 
one  of  them  knocked  down  the  oldest  boy,  about  eleven 
years  old,  and  while  in  the  act  of  scalping  him,  was 
fired  at,  but  without  effect.  Mrs.  Davies,  seeing  the 
agitation  and  alarm  of  the  Indians,  saved  herself  and 
sucking  child,  by  jumping  into  a  sink  hole.  The  In 
dians  did  not  stand  to  make  fight,  but  fled  in  the  most 
precipitate  manner.  In  that  way  the  family  was  res 
cued  by  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  without  the  loss 
of  a  single  life,  and  without  any  injury  but  that  above 
mentioned.  Soon  as  the  boy  had  risen  on  his  feet, 
the  first  word  he  spoke  was,  "  Curse  that  Indian  he 
has  got  my  scalp."  After  the  family  had  been  rescued, 
Mrs.  Daviess  gave  the  following  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  Indians  had  acted. 


MRS.  DAVIES.  209 

A  few  minutes  after  her  husband  had  opened  the 
door  and  stepped  out  of  the  house,  four  Indians  rushed 
in,  whilst  the  fifth,  as  she  afterwards  learned,  WdS  in 
pursuit  of  her  husband.  Herself  and  children  were  in 
bed  when  the  Indians  entered  the  house.  One  of  the 
Indians  immediately  made  signs,  by  which  she  under- 
derstood  him  to  inquire  how  far  it  was  to  the  next 
house.  With  an  unusual  presence  of  mind,  knowing 
how  important  it  would  be  to  make  the  distance  as  far 
as  possible,  she  raised  both  her  hands,  first  counting 
the  fingers  of  one  hand,  then  the  other — making  a 
distance  of  eight  miles.  The  Indian  then  signed  tc 
her  that  she  must  rise ;  she  immediately  got  up,  and 
as  soon  as  she  could  dress  herself,  commenced  showing 
the  Indians  one  article  of  clothing  after  another,  which 
pleased  them  very  much ;  and  in  that  way,  delayed 
them  at  the  house  nearly  two  hours.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  Indian  who  had  been  in  pursuit  of  her  husband, 
returned  with  his  hands  stained  with  poke  berries,  which 
he  held  up,  and  with  some  violent  gestures,  and  waving 
of  his  tomahawk,  attempted  to  induce  the  belief,  that 
the  stain  on  his  hands  was  the  blood  of  her  husband, 
and  that  he  had  killed  him.  She  was  enabled  at  once 
to  discover  the  deception,  and  instead  of  producing  any 
alarm  on  her  part,  she  was  satisfied  that  her  husband 
had  escaped  uninjured. 

After  the  savages  had  plundered  the  house  of  every 
thing  that  they  could  conveniently  carry  off  with  them, 
they  started,  taking  Mrs.  Daviess  and  her  children — 
14 


210  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

seven  in  number,  as  prisoners  along  with  them.  Some 
of  the  children  were  too  young  to  travel  as  fast  as  the 
Indians  wished,  and  discovering,  as  she  believed,  their 
intention  to  kill  such  of  them  as  could  not  conveniently 
travel,  she  made  the  two  oldest  boys  carry  them  on 
their  backs.  The  Indians,  in  starting  from  the  house, 
were  very  careful  to  leave  no  signs  of  the  direction 
which  they  had  taken,  not  even  permitting  the  children 
to  break  a  twig  or  weed,  as  they  passed  along.  They 
had  not  gone  far,  before  an  Indian  drew  a  knife  and 
cut  off  a  few  inches  of  Mrs.  Daviess's  dress,  so  that 
she  would  not  be  interrupted  in  travelling. 

Mrs.  Daviess  was  a  woman  of  cool,  deliberate  courage, 
and  accustomed  to  handle  the  gun  so  that  she  could 
shoot  well,  as  many  of  the  women  were  in  the  habit 
of  doing  in  those  days.  She  had  contemplated,  as  a 
last  resort,  that  if  not  rescued  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  when  night  came  and  the  Indians  had  fallen  asleep, 
she  would  rescue  herself  and  children  by  killing  as 
many  of  the  Indians  as  she  could — thinking  in  a  night 
attack  as  many  of  them  as  remained,  would  most  pro 
bably  run  off.  Such  an  attempt  would  now  seem  a 
species  of  madness  ;  but  to  those  who  were  acquainted 
with  Mrs.  Daviess,  little  doubt  was  entertained,  that  if 
the  attempt  had  been  made,  it  would  have  proved 
successful. 

The  boy  who  had  been  scalped,  was  greatly  disfigured, 
as  the  hair  never  after  grew  upon  that  part  of  his  head. 
He  often  wished  for  an"  opportunity  to  avenge  himself 


MRS.  DAVIESS.  211 

upon  the  Indians  for  the  injury  he  received.  Unfor 
tunately  for  himself,  ten  years  afterwards,  the  Indians 
came  to  the  neighborhood  of  his  father  and  stole  a 
number  of  horses.  Himself  and  a  party  of  men  went 
in  pursuit  of  them,  and  after  following  them  for  some 
days,  the  Indians  finding  that  they  were  likely  to  bo 
overtaken,  placed  themselves  in  ambush,  an<J  when 
their  pursuers  came  up,  killed  young  Daviess  and  one 
other  man ;  so  that  he  untimely  fell  into  their  hands 
when  about  twenty-one  years  old.  The  next  year 
after  the  father  died ;  his  death  being  caused,  as  it 
was  supposed,  by  the  extraordinary  efforts  he  made 
to  release  his  family  from  the  Indians.  We  cannot 
close  this  account,  without  noticing  an  act  of  courage 
displayed  by  Mrs.  Daviess,  calculated  to  exhibit  her 
character  in  its  true  point  of  view. 

Kentucky,  in  its  early  days,  like  most  new  countries, 
was  occasionally  troubled  with  men  of  abandoned  cha 
racter,  who  lived  by  stealing  the  property  of  others, 
and  after  committing  their  depredations,  retired  to  their 
hiding  places,  thereby  eluding  the  operation  of  the  law. 
One  of  these  marauders,  a  man  of  desperate  character, 
who  had  committed  extensive  thefts  from  Mr.  Daviess, 
as  well  as  from  his  neighbors,  was  pursued  by  Daviess 
and  a  party  whose  property  he  had  taken,  in  order  to 
bring  him  to  justice.  While  the  party  were  in  pursuit, 
the  suspected  individual,  not  knowing  any  one  was  pur 
suing  him,  came  to  the  house  of  Daviess,  armed  with 
his  gun  and  tomahawk — no  person  being  at  home  but 


212  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Mrs.  Daviess  and  her  children.  Aftpr  he  had  stepped 
into  the  house,  Mrs.  Daviess  asked  him  if  he  would 
drink  something — and  having  set  a  bottle  of  whiskey 
upon  the  table,  requested  him  to  help  himself.  The  fel 
low  not  suspecting  any  danger,  set  his  gun  by  the  door, 
and,  while  he  was  drinking,  Mrs.  Daviess  picked  up 
his  gun,  and  placed  herself  in  the  door,  had  the  gun 
cocked  and  levelled  upon  him  by  the  time  he  turned 
around,  and  in  a  peremptory  manner  ordered  him  to 
take  a  seat,  or  she  would  shoot  him.  Struck  with 
terror  and  alarm,  he  asked  what  he  had  done.  She 
told  him,  he  had  stolen  her  husband's  property,  and 
that  she  intended  to  take  care  of  him  herself.  In  that 
condition,  she  held  him  a  prisoner,  until  the  party  of 
men  returned  and  took  him  into  their  possession. 

Such  deeds  procured  for  Mrs.  Daviess  a  high  repu 
tation  for  courage  and  determination,  among  the  bold 
spirits  of  the  frontier,  although  they  were  accustomed 
to  expect  such  qualities  in  the  men  and  women  of  that 
region.  All  deemed  her  an  extraordinary  woman ; 
and  when  wives  and  daughters  displayed  timidity  at 
approaching  danger,  they  were  stimulated  to  daring 
efforts  by  being  reminded  of  what  Mrs.  Daviess  had 
performed. 


MAET  CHASE. 

RUXTON,  in  his  inimitable  "  Life  in  the  Far  West, 
gives  a  thrilling  account  of  an  attack  upon  a  family 
named  Chase,  who  were  crossing  the  prairies.  He 
has  changed  the  name  to  Brand,  but  the  incidents  are 
narrated  as  they  actually  happened.  The  courage  and 
devotion  of  Mary  Chase,  the  Mary  Brand  of  the  story, 
cannot  be  too  much  extolled.  The  narrative  is  as 
follows : 

One  fine  sunny  evening  in  April  of  1847,  when  the 
cotton  woods  on  the  banks  of  the  Arkansas  began  to 
put  forth  their  buds,  and  robins  and  blue-birds — har 
bingers  of  spring — were  hopping,  with  gaudy  plumage, 
through  the  thickets,  three  white-tilted  Conostoga 
wagons  emerged  from  the  timbered  bottom  of  the  river, 
and  rumbled  slowly  over  the  prairie,  in  the  direction 
of  the  Platte's  waters.  Each  wagon  was  drawn  by 
eight  oxen,  and  contained  a  portion  of  the  farming  im 
plements  and  household  utensils  of  the  Brand  family. 
The  teams  were  driven  by  the  young  boys,  the  men 
following  in  rear  with  shouldered  rifles — old  Brand 

(213) 


214  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

himself  mounted  on  an  Indian  horse,  leading  the  ad 
vance.  The  women  were  safely  housed  under  the  wagon 
tilts,  and  out  of  the  first  the  mild  face  of  Mary  Brand 
smiled  adieu  to  many  of  her  old  companions,  who  had 
accompanied  them  thus  far,  and  now  wished  them 
"  God-speed"  on  their  long  journey.  Some  moun 
taineers  galloped  up,  dressed  in  buckskin,  and  gave 
them  rough  greeting — warning  the  men  to  keep  their 
"eyes  skinned,"  and  look  out  for  the  Araphos,  who 
were  out  on  the  waters  of  the  Platte.  Presently  all 
retired,  and  then  the  huge  wagons  and  the  little  com 
pany  were  rolling  on  their  solitary  way  through  the 
deserted  prairies — passing  the  first  of  the  many  thou 
sand  miles  which  lay  between  them  and  the  "  setting 
sun,"  as  the  Indians  style  the  distant  regions  of  the 
Far  West.  And  on,  without  casting  a  look  behind 
him,  doggedly  and  boldly  marched  old  Brand,  followed 
by  his  sturdy  family. 

They  made  but  a  few  miles  that  evening,  for  the 
first  day  the  start  is  all  that  is  effected ;  and  nearly 
the  whole  morning  is  taken  up  in  getting  fairly  under 
weigh.  The  loose  stock  had  been  sent  off  earlier;  for 
they  had  been  collected  and  corralled  the  previous 
night ;  and,  after  a  twelve  hours'  fast,  it  was  necessary 
they  should  reach  the  end  of  the  day's  journey  betimes, 
They  found  the  herd  grazing  in  the  bottom  of  the  Ar 
kansas,  at  a  point  previously  fixed  upon  for  their  first 
camp.  Here  the  oxen  were  unyoked,  and  the  wagons 
drawn  up  so  as  to  form  the  three  sides  of  a  small  square 


MAKY  CHASE.  215 

The  women  descended  from  their  seats,  and  prepared 
the  evening  meal.  A  huge  fire  was  kindled  before  the 
wagons,  and  round  this  the  whole  party  collected; 
while  large  kettles  of  coffee  boiled  on  it,  and  hoe-cakes 
baked  upon  the  embers. 

The  women  were  sadly  down-hearted,  as  well  they 
might  be,  with  the  dreary  prospect  before  them ;  and 
poor  Mary,  when  she  saw  the  Mormon  encampment 
shut  out  from  her  sight  by  the  rolling  bluffs,  and  no 
thing  before  her  but  the  bleak,  barren  prairie,  could 
not  divest  herself  of  the  idea  that  she  had  looked  for 
the  last  time  on  civilized  fellow-creatures,  and  fairly 
burst  into  tears. 

In  the  morning  the  heavy  wagons  rolled  on  again 
across  the  upland  prairies,  to  strike  the  trail  used  by 
the  traders  in  passing  from  the  south  fork  of  the  Platte 
to  the  Arkansas.  They  had  for  guide  a  Canadian 
voyageur,  who  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  Indian 
traders,  and  knew  the  route  well,  and  had  agreed  to 
pilot  them  to  Fort  Lancaster  on  the  north  fork  of  the 
Platte.  Their  course  led  for  about  thirty  miles  up  the 
Boiling  Spring  River,  whence  they  pursued  a  north 
easterly  course  to  the  dividing  ridge  which  separates 
the  waters  of  the  Platte  and  Arkansas.  Their  progress 
was  slow,  for  the  ground  was  saturated  with  wet,  and 
exceedingly  heavy  for  the  cattle,  and  they  scarcely 
advanced  more  than  ten  miles  a  day. 

At  the  camp  fire  at  night,  Antoine,  the  Canadian 
guide  amused  them  with  tales  of  the  wild  life  and  peri- 


216  HEROIC  WOMEN  0?  THE  WEST. 

lous  adventures  of  the  hunters  and  trappers  who  make 
the  mountains  their  home ;  often  extorting  a  scream 
from  the  women  by  the  description  of  some  scene  of 
Indian  fight  and  slaughter,  or  beguiling  them  of  a 
commiserating  tear  by  the  narrative  of  the  sufferings 
and  privations  endured  by  those  hardy  hunters  in  their 
arduous  life. 

Mary  listened  with  the  greater  interest,  since  she 
remembered  that  such  was  the  life  which  had  been  led 
by  one  very  dear  to  her — by  one,  long  supposed  to  be 
dead,  of  whom  she  had  never  but  once,  since  his  de 
parture,  nearly  fifteen  years  before,  heard  a  syllable. 
Her  imagination  pictured  him  as  the  bravest  and  most 
daring  of  these  adventurous  hunters,  and  conjured  up 
his  figure  charging  through  the  midst  of  whooping 
savages,  or  stretched  on  the  ground  perishing  from 
wounds,  or  cold,  or  famine. 

Among  the  characters  who  figured  in  Antoine's 
stories,  a  hunter  named  La  Bonte  was  made  conspi 
cuous  for  deeds  of  hardiness  and  daring.  The  first 
mention  of  the  name  caused  the  blood  to  rush  to  Mary's 
face :  not  that  she  for  a  moment  imagined  it  was  her 
La  Bonte,  for  she  knew  the  name  was  a  common  one  ; 
but,  associated  with  feelings  which  she  had  never  got 
the  better  of,  it  recalled  a  sad  epoch  in  her  former  life, 
to  which  she  could  not  look  back  without  mingled  pain 
and  pleasure. 

Once  only,  and  about  two  years  after  his  departure, 
had  she  <?ver  received  tidings  of  her  former  lover.  A 


MARY  CHASE.  217 

mountaineer  had  returned  from  the  Far  West  to  settle 
in  his  native  state,  and  had  found  his  way  to"  the 
neighborhood  of  old  Brand's  farm.  Meeting  him  by 
accident,  Mary,  hearing  him  speak  of  the  mountain 
hunters,  had  inquired  tremblingly,  after  La  Bonte. 
Her  informant  knew  him  well — had  trapped  in  com 
pany  with  him — and  had  heard  at  the  trading  fort, 
whence  he  had  taken  his  departure  for  the  settlements, 
that  La  Bonte  had  been  killed  on  the  Yellow  Stone 
by  Blackfeet ;  which  report  was  confirmed  by  some 
Indians  of  that  nation.  This  was  all  she  had  ever 
learned  of  the  lover  of  her  youth. 

Now  upon  hearing  the  name  of  La  Bonte  so  often 
mentioned  by  Antoine,  a  vague  hope  was  raised  in  her 
breast  that  he  was  still  alive,  and  she  took  an  oppor 
tunity  of  questioning  the  Canadian  closely  on  the 
subject. 

"  Who  was  this  La  Bonte,  Antoine,  who  you  say 
was  so  brave  a  mountaineer?"  she  asked  one  day. 

"  J'ne  sais  pas ;  he  vas  un  beau  garden,  and  strong 
comme  le  diable — enfant  de  garce,  mais  he  pas  not 
care  a  dam  for  les  sauvages,  pe  gar.  He  shoot  de 
centare  avec  his  carabine ;  and  ride  de  cheval  comme 
one  Comanche.  He  trap  heap  castor  (what  you  call 
beevare,)  and  get  plenty  dollare — mais  he  open  hand 
vare  wide — and  got  none  too.  Den,  he  hont  vid  de 
Blackfeet  and  avec  de  Cheyenne,  and  all  round  de 
montaignes  he  hont  dam  sight." 

"  But,  Antoine,  what  became  of  him  at  last  ?  and 


218  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

why  did  he  not  come  home,  when  he  made  so  many 
dollars  ?"  asked  poor  Mary. 

"  Enfant  de  garce,  mais  pourquoi  he  come  home  ? 
Pe  gar,  de  montaigne-man,  he  love  the  montaigne  and 
prairie  more  better  dan  he  love  de  grandes  villes — • 
meme  de  Saint  Louis  ou  de  Montreal.  Wagh !  La 
Bonte,  well,  he  one  montaigne-man,  wagh !  He  love 
de  buffaloe  and  de  chevreaux  plus  que  de  boeuf  arid  de 
mouton,  may  be.  Mais  on-dit  dat  he  have  autre 
raison — dat  de  gal  he  lofe  in  Missouri  not  lofe  him,  and 
for  dis  he  not  go  back.  Mais  now  he  go  ondare, 
m'  on  dit.  He  vas  go  to  de  Californe,  may  be  to  steal 
de  hos  and  de  mule — pe  gar,  and  de  Espagnols  rub 
him  out,  and  take  his  hair,  so  he  mort." 

"But  are  you  sure  of  this  ?"  she  asked,  trembling 
with  grief. 

"  Ah,  now,  j'ne  suis  pas  sur,  mais  I  tink  you  know 
dis  La  Bonte.  Enfant  de  garce,  maybe  you  de  gal 
in  Missouri  he  lofe,  and  not  lofe  him.  Pe  gar  !  'fant 
de  garce !  fort  beau  gargon  dis  La  Bonte,  pourquoi 
you  ne  1'aimez  pas  ?  Maybe  he  not  gone  ondar.  May 
be  he  turn  op,  autrefois.  De  trappares,  dey  go  ondar 
tree,  four,  ten  times,  mais  dey  turn  op  twenty  time 
De  sauvage  not  able  for  kill  La  Bonte,  ni  de  dam 
Espagnols.  Ah,  non !  ne  craignez  pas ;  pe  gar.  he 
not  gone  ondare  encore." 

Spite  of  the  good-natured  attempts  of  the  Canadian, 
poor  Mary  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears ;  not  that  the 
information  took  her  unawares,  for  she  had  long  be- 


MARY  CHASE.  219 

lieved  him  dead ;  but  because  the  very  mention  of 
his  name  awoke  the  strongest  feelings  within  her  breast, 
and  taught  her  how  deep  was  the  affection  she  had  felt 
for  him  whose  loss  and  violent  fate  she  now  bewailed. 

As  the  wagons  of  the  lone  caravan  roll  on  towards 
the  Platte,  we  return  to  the  camp  where  La  Bonte, 
Killbuck,  and  the  stranger,  were  sitting  before  the 
fire  when  last  we  saw  them :  Killbuck  loquitur. 

"  The  doins  of  them  Mormon  fools  can't  be  beat  by 
Spaniards,  stranger.  Their  mummums  and  thummums 
you  speak  of  won't  '  shine'  whar  Injuns  are  about ; 
nor  pint  out  a  trail,  whar  nothin  crossed  but  rattle 
snakes  since  fust  it  snow'd  on  old  Pikg's  Peak.  If 
they  pack  along  them  profits,  as  you  tell  of,  who  can 
make  it  rain  hump-ribs  and  marrow-guts  when  the 
crowd  gets  out  of  the  buffler  range,  they  are  '  some,' 
now,  that's  a  fact.  But  this  child  don't  believe  it. 
I'd  laugh  to  get  a  sight  of  these  darned  Mormonites, 
I  would.  They're  '  no  account,'  I  guess ;  and  it's  the 
*  meanest'  kind  of  action  to  haul  their  women  crittera 
and  their  young  'uns  to  sech  a  starving  country  as  the 
Calif ornys." 

u  They  are  not  all  Mormons  in  the  crowd,"  said  the 
strange  hunter ;  "  and  there's  one  family  among  them 
with  some  smartish  boys  and  girls,  I  tell  you.  Their 
name's  Brand." 

La  Bonte  looked  up  from  the  lock  of  his  rifle,  which 
he  was  cleaning — but  either  didn't  hear,  or,  hearing, 
didn't  heed,  for  he  continued  his  work. 


220  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  And  they  are  going  to  part  company,"  continued 
the  stranger,  "  and  put  out  alone  for  Platte  and  the 
South  Pass." 

"They'll  lose  their  hair,  I'm  thinking,"  said  Kill- 
buck,  "  if  the  Rapahos  are  out  thar." 

"I  hope  not,"  continued  the  other,  "for  there's  a 
girl  among  them  worth  more  than  that." 

"Poor  beaver!"  said  La  Bonte,  looking  up  from 
his  work.  "  I'd  hate  to  see  any  white  gal  in  the  hands 
of  Injuns,  and  of  Rapahos  worse  than  all  where  does 
she  come  from,  stranger?" 

"  Down  below  St.  Louis,  from  Tennessee,  I'Ve  heard 
them  say." 

"Tennessee,"  cried  La  Bonte — "hurrah  for  the 
old  State !  What's  her  name,  stran — "  At  this  mo 
ment  Killbuck's  old  mule  pricked  her  ears  and  snuffed 
the  air,  which  action  catching  La  Bonte's  eye,  he 
rose  abruptly,  without  waiting  a  reply  to  his  question, 
and  exclaimed,  "  The  old  mule  smells  Injuns,  or  I'm 
a  Spaniard  !" 

The  hunter  did  the  old  mule  justice,  and  she  well 
maintained  her  reputation  as  the  best  "guard,"  in  the 
mountain ;  for  in  two  minutes  an  Indian  stalked  into 
the  camp,  dressed  in  a  cloth  capote,  and  in  odds  and 
ends  of  civjlized  attire. 

"  Rapaho,"  cried  Killbuck,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him ; 
and  the  Indian  catching  the  word,  struck  his  hand  upon 
his  breast,  and  exclaimed,  in  broken  Spanish  and  En 
glish  mixed,  "  Si,  si,  me  Arapaho,  white  man  amigo. 


MARY  CHASE.  221 

Come  from  Pueblo — hunt  cibola — me  gun  break — no 
puedo  matar  nada :  mucha  hambre  (very  hungry) — • 
heap  eat." 

Killbuck  offered  his  pipe  to  the  Indian,  and  spoke  to 
him  in  his  own  language,  which  both  he  and  La  Bonte 
well  understood.  They  learned  that  he  was  married 
to  a  Mexican  woman,  and  lived  with  some  hunters  at 
the  Pueblo  fort  on  the  Arkansas.  He  volunteered  the 
information  that  a  war  party  of  his  people  were  out  on 
the  Platte  trail  to  intercept  the  Indian  traders  on  their 
return  from  the  North  Fork ;  and  as  some  "  Mormons" 
had  just  started  in  that  direction,  he  said  his  people 
would  make  a  "raise."  Being  muy  amigo  himself  to 
the  whites,  he  cautioned  his  present  companions  from 
crossing  to  the  "divide,"  as  the  "braves,"  he  said, 
were  a  "  heap"  mad,  and  their  hearts  were  "  big,"  and 
nothing  in  the  shape  of  white  skin  would  live  before 
them. 

"  Wagh !"  exclaimed  Killbuck,  "  the  Rapahos  know 
me,  I'm  thinking ;  and  small  gain  they've  made  against 
this  child.  I've  knowed  the  time  when  my  gun-corer 
could'nt  hold  more  of  their  scalps." 

The  Indian  was  provided  with  some  powder,  of  which 
he  stood  in  need  ;  and,  after  gorging  as  much  meat  as 
his  capacious  stomach  would  hold,  he  left  the  camp, 
and  started  into  the  mountain. 

The  next  day  our  hunters  started  on  their  journey 
down  the  river,  travelling  leisurely,  and  stopping  when 
ever  good  grass  presented  itself.  One  morning  they 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

suddenly  struck  a  wheel  trail,  which  left  the  creeli 
banks  and  pursued  a  course  at  right  angles  to  it,  in  the 
direction  of  the  "  divide."  Killbuck  pronounced  it 
but  a  few  hours  old,  and  that  of  three  wagons  drawn 
by  oxen. 

•l  "YVagh  !"  he  exclaimed,  "if  them  poor  devils  of 
Mormonites  ain't  going  head  first  into  the  Rapaho  trap, 
they'll  be  'gone  beaver'  afore  long." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  strange  hunter,  "  these  are  the 
wagons  belonging  to  old  Brand,  and  he  has  started 
alone  for  Laramie.  I  hope  nothing  will  happen  to 
them." 

"Brand!"  muttered  La  Bonte.  "I  knowed  that 
name  mighty  well  once,  years  ago  :  and  should  hate 
the  worst  kind  that  mischief  happened  to  any  one  who 
bore  it.  This  trail's  as  fresh  as  paint ;  and  it  goes 
against  me  to  let  these  simple  critters  help  the  Ra- 
pahos  to  their  own  hair.  This  child  feels  like  help 
ing  'em  out  of  the  scrape.  What  do  you  say,  old  hos?" 

"  I  thinks  with  you,  boy,"  answered  Killbuck,  "  and 
go  in  for  following  this  wagon  trail,  and  telling  the 
poor  critters  that  thar's  danger  ahead  of  them.  What's 
your  talk,  stranger  ?" 

"  I  go  with  you,"  shortly  answered  the  latter ;  and 
both  followed  after  La  Bonte,  who  was  already  trotting 
smartly  on  the  trail. 

Mean  while  the  three  wagons,  containing  the  house 
hold  goods  of  the  Brand  family,  rumbled  slowly  ovei 
the  rolling  prairie,  and  toward  the  upland  ridge  of  the 


MARY  CHASE.  223 

"  divide,"  which,  studded  with  dwarf  pine  and  cedar 
thicket,  rose  gradually  before  them.  They  travelled 
with  considerable  caution,  for  already  the  quick  eye 
of  Antoine  had  discovered  recent  Indian  sign  upon  the 
trail,  and,  with  mountain  quickness,  had  at  once  made 
it  out  to  be  that  of  a  war  party ;  for  there  were  no 
horses  with  them,  and  after  one  or  two  of  the  mocca 
sin  tracks,  the  mark  of  a  rope  which  trailed  upon  the 
ground  was  sufficent  to  show  him  that  the  Indians  were 
provided  with  the  usual  lasso  of  skin,  with  which  to 
secure  the  horses  stolen  in  the  expedition.  The  men 
of  the  party  were  consequently  all  mounted  and  tho 
roughly  armed,  the  wagons  moved  in  a  line  abreast, 
and  a  sharp  look-out  was  kept  on  all  sides.  The  women 
and  children  were  all  consigned  to  the  interior  of  the 
wagons ;  and  the  latter  had  also  guns  in  readiness,  to 
take  their  part  in  the  defence,  should  an  attack  be 
made. 

However,  they  had  seen  no  Indians,  and  no  fresh 
sign,  for  two  days  after  they  had  left  the  Boiling  Spring 
River,  and  they  began  to  think  they  were  well  out  of 
their  neighborhood.  One  evening  they  camped  on  a 
creek  called  Black  Horse,  and,  as  usual,  had  corralled 
the  wagons,  and  forted  as  well  as  circumstances  would 
permit,  when  three  or  four  Indians  suddenly  appeared 
on  a  bluff  at  a  little  distance,  and,  making  signals  of 
peaceable  intentions,  approached  the  camp.  Most  of 
the  men  were  absent  at  the  time,  attending  to  the 
cattle  or  collecting  fuel,  and  only  old  Brand  and  one 


224  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

of  his  young  grandchildren,  about  fourteen  years  old, 
remained  in  camp.  The  Indians  were  hospitably  re 
ceived,  and  regaled  with  a  smoke,  after  which  they 
began  to  evince  their  curiosity  by  examining  every  ar 
ticle  lying  about,  and  signifying  their  wishes  that  it 
should  be  given  to  them.  Finding  their  hints  were 
not  taken,  they  laid  hold  of  several  things  which  took 
their  fancies,  and,  among  others,  of  the  pot  which  was 
boiling  on  the  fire,  and  with  which  one  of  them  was 
about  very  coolly  to  walk  off,  when  old  Brand,  who  up 
to  this  moment  had  retained  possession  of  his  temper, 
seized  it  out  of  the  Indian's  hand,  and  knocked  him 
down.  One  of  the  others  instantly  began  to  draw  the 
buckskin  cover  from  his  gun,  and  would  no  doubt  have 
taken  summary  vengeance  for  the  insult  offered  to  his 
companion,  when  Mary  Brand  courageously  stepped 
up  to  him,  and,  placing  her  left  hand  upon  the  gun 
which  he  was  in  the  act  of  uncovering,  with  the  other 
pointed  a  pistol  at  his  breast. 

Whether  daunted  by  the  bold  act  of  the  girl,  or  ad 
miring  her  devotion  to  her  father,  the  Indian  drew 
himself  back,  exclaimed  "Howgh!"  and  drew  the 
cover  again  on  his  piece,  went  up  to  old  Brand,  who 
was  all  this  time  looking  him  sternly  in  the  face,  and, 
shaking  him  by  the  hand,  motioned  at  the  same  time 
to  the  others  to  be  peaceable. 

The  other  whites  presently  coming  into  camp,  the 
Indians  sat  quietly  down  by  the  fire,  and,  when  the 
supper  was  ready,  joined  in  the  repast,  after  which 


MARY  CHASE. 

they  gathered  their  buffalo  robes  about  them,  and 
quietly  withdrew.  Meanwhile  Antoine,  knowing  the 
treacherous  character  of  the  savages,  advised  that  the 
greatest  precaution  should  be  taken  to  secure  the 
stock ;  and  before  dark,  therafore  all  the  mules  and 
horses  were  hobbled  and  secured  within  the  corral, 
the  oxen  being  allowed  to  feed  &t  liberty — for  the  In 
dians  scarcely  care  to  trouble  themselves  with  such 
cattle.  A  guard  was  alco  set  the  camp,  and  relieved 
every  two  hours;  the  fire  was  extinguished,  lest  the 
savages  should  aim,  by  its  light,  at  any  of  the  party, 
and  all  slept  with  rifles  ready  at  their  sides.  How 
ever,  the  night  passed  quietly,  and  nothing  disturbed 
the  tranquillity  cf  the  camp.  The  prairie  wolves  loped 
hungrily  around,  and  their  mournfrl  cry  was  borne 
upon  the  wind  as  th^-y  chased  deer  and  antelope  on 
the  neighboring  plain ;  but  not  a  sign  of  lurking 
Indians  was  seen  or  heard. 

In  the  morning,  shortly  after  sunrise,  they  were  in 
the  act  of  yoking  the  oxen  to  the  wagons,  and  driving 
in  the  loose  anim&ls  which  had  been  turned  out  to  feed 
at  daybreak,  when  some  Indians  again  appeared  on  the 
bluff,  and,  descending  it,  confidently  approached  the 
camp.  Antoine  strongly  advised  their  not  being  al 
lowed  to  enter ;  but  Brand,  ignorant  of  Indian  treach 
ery,  replied  that,  so  long  as  they  came  as  friends,  they 
could  not  be  deemed  enemies,  and  allowed  no  obstruc 
tion  to  be  offered  to  their  approach.  It  was  now  observed 
that  they  were  all  painted,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows, 
15 


226  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  divested  of  their  buffalo  robes,  appearing  naked 
to  the  breech-clout,  their  legs  only  being  protected  by 
deerskin  leggings,  reaching  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh, 
Six  or  seven  first  arrived,  and  others  quickly  followed, 
dropping  in  one  after  the  other,  until  a  score  or  more 
were  collected  round  the  wagons.  Their  demeanor, 
at  first  friendly,  soon  changed  as  their  numbers  in 
creased,  and  they  now  became  urgent  in  their  demands 
for  powder  and  lead,  and  bullying  in  their  manner. 
A  chief  accosted  Brand,  and,  though  Antoine,  in 
formed  him  "  that,  unless  the  demand  of  his  braves 
were  acceded  to,  he  could  not  bo  responsible  for  the 
consequences  ;  that  they  were  out  on  the  '  war-trail,' 
and  their  eyes  n  ore  red  with  blood,  so  that  they  could 
not  distinguish  ^eivveen  white  and  Yuta  scalps;  that 
the  party,  with  all  their  women  and  wagons,  were  in  the 
power  of  the  Indian  *  braves,'  and  therefore  the  white 
chiefs  best  plan  was  to  mai'.e  the  best  terms  he  could ; 
that  all  they  required  was  thaO  they  should  give  up 
their  guns  and  ammunitior.  '  en  the  prairie,'  and  all 
their  mules  and  horses — retaining  t"r.£  c  medicine' 
buffaloes  (the  oxen)  to  draw  their  wb.gcns," 

By  this  time  the  oxen  were  joked,  and  the  team 
sters,  whip  in  hand,  only  waited  the  word  to  start. 
Old  Brand  foamed  while  the  Indian  stated  his  demands, 
but,  hearing  him  to  the  end,  exclaimed,  "  Darn  the 
red  devil !  I  would'nt  give  him  a  grain  of  powder  to 
save  my  life.  Put  out,  boys!" — and,  turning  to  his 
horse,  which  stood  ready  saddled,  was  about  to  mount, 


MARY  CHASE.  227 

when  the  Indians  sprang  at  once  upon  the  wagons,  and 
commenced  the  attack,  yelling  like  fiends. 

One  jumped  upon  Old  Brand,  pulled  him  back  as  he 
was  rising  in  the  stirrup,  and  drew  his  bow  upon  him 
at  the  same  moment.  In  an  instant  the  old  backwoods 
man  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  and,  putting  the 
muzzle  to  the  Indian's  heart,  shot  him  dead.  Another 
Indian,  flourishing  his  war-club,  laid  the  old  man  at 
his  feet ;  while  some  dragged  the  women  from  the 
wagons,  and  others  rushed  upon  the  men,  who  made 
brave  fight  in  their  defence. 

Mary,  when  she  saw  her  father  struck  to  the  ground, 
sprang  with  a  shrill  cry  to  his  assistance ;  for  at  that 
moment  a  savage,  frightful  as  red  paint  could  make 
him,  was  standing  over  his  prostrate  body,  brandish 
ing  a  glittering  knife  in  the  air,  preparatory  to  thrust 
ing  it  into  the  old  man's  breast.  For  the  rest,  all  was 
confusion  :  in  vain  the  small  party  of  whites  struggled 
against  overpowering  numbers.  Their  rifles  cracked 
but  once,  and  they  were  quickly  disarmed ;  while  the 
shrieks  of  the  women  and  children,  and  the  loud  yells 
of  the  Indians,  added  to  the  scene  of  horror  and  con 
fusion.  As  Mary  flew  to  her  father's  side,  an  Indian 
threw  his  lasso  at  her,  the  noose  falling  over  her 
shoulders,  and  jerking  it  tight,  he  uttered  a  delighted 
yell  as  the  poor  girl  was  thrown  back  violently  to  the 
ground.  As  she  fell,  another  deliberately  shot  an  ar 
row  at  her  body,  while  the  one  who  had  thrown  the 
lasso  rushed  forward,  his  scalping-knife  flashing  in  his 


228  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

hani,  to  seize  the  bloody  trophy  of  his  savage  deed. 
The  girl  rose  to  her  knees,  and  looked  wildly  toward 
the  spot  where  her  father  lay  bathed  in  blood ;  but 
the  Indian  pulled  the  rope  violently,  dragged  her  some 
yards  upon  the  ground,  and  then  rushed  with  a  yell 
of  vengeance  upon  his  victim.  He  paused,  however, 
as  at  that  moment  a  shout  as  fierce  as  his  own  sounded 
at  his  very  ear  ;  and  looking  up  he  saw  La  Bonte  gal 
loping  madly  down  the  bluff,  his  long  hair  and  the 
fringes  of  his  hunting-shirt  and  leggings  flying  in  the 
wind,  his  right  arm  supporting  his  trusty  rifle,  while 
close  behind  him  came  Killbuck  and  the  stranger. 
Dashing  with  loud  hurrahs  to  the  scene  of  action,  La 
Bonte,  as  he  charged  down  the  bluff,  caught  sight  of 
the  girl  struggling  in  the  hands  of  the  ferocious  In 
dian.  Loud  was  the  war-shout  of  the  mountaineer, 
as  he  struck  his  heavy  spurs  to  the  rowels  in  the 
horse's  side,  and  bounded  like  lightning  to  the  rescue 
In  a  single  stride  he  was  upon  the  Indian,  and  thrust^ 
ing  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  into  his  very  breast,  he  pulled 
the  trigger,  driving  the  savage  backward  by  the  blow 
itself,  at  the  same  moment  that  the  bullet  passed 
through  his  heart,  and  tumbled  him  over  stone-dead. 
Throwing  down  his  rifle,  La  Bonte  wheeled  his 
obedient  horse,  and  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  belt, 
again  charged  the  enemy,  among  whom  Killbuck  and 
the  stranger  were  dealing  death-giving  blows.  Yelling 
for  victory,  the  mountaineers  rushed  at  the  Indians ; 
and  they  panic-struck  at  the  sudden  attack,  and  think 


MARY  CHASE.  229 

ing  this  was  but  the  advanced  guard  of  a  large  band, 
fairly  turned  and  fled,  leaving  five  of  their  number 
dead  upon  the  field. 

Mary,  shutting  her  eyes  to  the  expected  death- 
stroke,  heard  the  loud  shout  La  Bonte  gave  in  charg 
ing  down  the  bluff,  and,  again  looking  up,  saw  the 
wild-looking  mountaineer  rush  to  her  rescue,  and  save 
her  from  the  savage  by  his  timely  blow.  Her  arms 
were  still  pinned  by  the  lasso,  which  prevented  her 
from  rising  to  her  feet ;  and  La  Bonte  was  the  first 
to  run  to  aid  her,  as  soon  as  the  fight  was  fairly  over. 
He  jumped  from  his  horse,  cut  the  skin-rope  which 
bound  her,  raised  her  from  the  ground,  and,  upon  her 
turning  up  her  face  to  thank  him,  beheld  his  never- 
to-be-forgotten  Mary  Bland;  while  she,  hardly  be 
lieving  her  senses,  recognised  in  her  deliverer  her 
former  lover,  and  still  beloved  La  Bonte. 

"What,  Mary,  can  it  be  you!"  he  asked,  looking 
intently  upon  the  trembling  woman. 

"La  Bonte,  you  don't  forget  me!"  she  answered, 
and  threw  herself  sobbing  into  the  arms  of  the  sturdy 
mountaineer. 

There  we  will  leave  them  for  the  present,  and  help 
Killbuck  and  his  five  companions  to  examine  the 
killed  and  wounded.  Of  the  former  five  Indians  and 
two  whites  lay  dead,  grandchildren  of  old  Brand,  fine 
lads  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  who  had  fought  with  the 
greatest  bravery,  and  lay  pierced  with  arrow  and 
.ance  wounds.  Old  Brand  had  received  a  sore  buffet. 


250  HEROIC  WOMBS'  OF  THE  WEST. 

t 

but  a  hatful  of  cold  water  from  the  creek  sprinkled 
over  his  face  soon  restored  him.  His  sons  had  not 
escaped  scot-free,  and  Antoine  was  shot  through  the 
neck,  and  falling,  had  actually  been  half  scalped  by 
an  Indian,  whom  the  timely  arrival  of  La  Bonte  had 
caused  to  leave  his  work  unfinished. 

Silently,  and  with  sad  hearts,  the  survivors  of  the 
family,  saw  the  bodies  of  the  two  boys  buried  on  the 
river  bank,  and  the  spot  marked  with  a  pile  of  loose 
stones,  procured  from  the  rocky  bed  of  the  creek.  The 
carcasses  of  the  treacherous  Indians  were  left  to  be 
devoured  by  wolves,  and  their  bones  to  bleach  in  the 
sun  and  wind — a  warning  to  their  tribe,  that  such  foul 
treachery  as  they  had  meditated  had  met  with  a  merited 
retribution. 

The  next  day  the  party  continued  their  course  to 
the  Platte.  Antoine  and  the  stranger  returned  to 
the  Arkansas,  starting  in  the  night  to  avoid  the  In 
dians  ;  but  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  lent  the  aid  of 
their  rifles  to  the  solitary  caravan,  and,  under  their 
experienced  guidance,  no  more  Indian  perils  were  en 
countered.  Mary  no  longer  sat  perched  up  in  her 
father's  Conostoga,  but  rode  a  quiet  mustang  by  La 
Bonte's  side ;  and  no  doubt  they  found  a  theme  with 
which  to  while  away  the  monotonous  journey  over  the 
ireary  plains.  South  Fork  was  passed  and  Laramie 
was  reached.  The  Sweet  Water  Mountains,  which 
hang  over  the  "  pass"  to  California,  were  long  since 
in  sight ;  but  when  the  waters  of  the  North  Fork  of 


MARY  CHASE.  231 

Platte  lay  before  their  horses'  feet,  and  the  broad  trail 
was  pointed  out  which  led  to  the  great  valley  of  Co 
lumbia  and  their  promised  land,  the  heads  of  the  oxen 
were  turned  down  the  stream  where  the  shallow  waters 
flow  on  to  join  the  great  Missouri — and  not  up,  toward 
the  mountains  where  they  leave  their  spring-heads, 
from  which  spring  flow  several  waters — some  coursing 
their  way  to  the  eastward,  fertilizing,  in  their  route  to 
the  Atlantic,  the  lands  of  civilized  man ;  others  west 
ward  forcing  a  passage  through  rocky  canons,  and 
flowing  through  a  barren  wilderness,  inhabited  by 
fierce  and  barbarous  tribes. 

These  were  the  routes  to  choose  from :  and,  what 
ever  was  the  cause  the  oxen  turned  their  yoked  heads 
away  from  the  rugged  mountains  ;  the  teamsters  joy 
fully  cracked  their  ponderous  whips,  as  the  wagons 
rolled  lightly  down  the  Platte  ;  and  men,  women,  and 
children,  waved  their  hats  and  bonnets  in  the  air,  and 
cried  out  lustily,  "  Hurrah  for  home  !" 

La  Bonte  and  his  faithful  Mary  were  married  soon 
afterwards.  La  Bonte  gave  up  his  wandering  life, 
and  settled  in  Tennessee. 


MES.  DOEION. 

THE  Pacific  Fur  Company,  founded  by  John  Jacob 
Astor,  of  New  York,  in  1810,  met  with  extraordinary 
difficulties  in  carrying  on  its  trading  operations  in  the 
wilderness  of  Oregon.  The  country  and  its  inhabi 
tants  were  almost  entirely  unknown.  When  explor 
ing  parties  started  from  Astoria,  they  found  that  they 
had  to  proceed  through  regions  where  the  greatest 
privations  were  to  be  endured ;  and  the  Indians  dis 
played  the  most  determined  hostility.  To  add  to  the 
misfortunes  of  the  adventurers,  war  broke  out  between 
Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  and  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  took  possession  of  Astoria. 

Early  in  the  summer  of  1813,  a  party  of  traders, 
under  the  command  of  a  Mr.  Reed,  and  accompanied 
by  Pierre  Dorion,  an  interpreter,  with  his  wife  and 
two  children,  started  on  an  expedition  into  the  Snake 
country.  Nothing  more  was  heard  of  them  until 
April  of  the  next  year,  when  Mrs.  Dorion,  accompa 
nied  by  a  few  friendly  Indians,  arrived  at  Walla 
(232) 


MRS.  DORION.  23£ 

Walla.  This  unfortunate  woman  told  a  story  of  hard 
ships,  borne  with  a  fortitude,  and  surmounted  with  a 
resolution,  to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel  in  the 
annals  of  female  heroism.  We  give  her  narrative  in 
her  own  simple  and  touching  words : 

"  About  the  middle  of  August  we  reached  the  Great 
Snake  River,  and  soon  afterwards,  following  up  a 
branch  to  the  right  hand,  where  there  were  plenty  of 
beaver,  we  encamped ;  and  there  Mr.  Reed  built  a  house 
to  winter  in.  After  the  house  was  built,  the  people 
spent  their  time  in  trapping  beaver.  About  the  latter 
end  of  September,  Hoback,  Robinson,  and  Rezner  came 
to  us ;  but  they  were  very  poor,  the  Indians  having 
robbed  them  of  every  thing  they  had  about  fifteen  days 
before.  Mr.  Reed  gave  them  some  clothing  and  traps, 
and  they  went  to  hunt  with  my  husband.  Landrie  got 
a  fall  from  his  horse,  lingered  a  while,  and  died  of  it. 
Delaunay  was  killed,  when  trapping :  my  husband  told 
me  that  he  saw  his  scalp  with  the  Indians,  and  knew 
it  from  the  color  of  the  hair.  The  Indians  about  the 
place  were  very  friendly  to  us  ;  but  when  strange  tribes 
visited  us,  they  were  troublesome,  and  always  asked 
Mr.  Reed  for  guns  and  ammunition  :  on  one  occasion, 
they  drove  an  arrow  into  one  of  the  horses,  and  took 
a  capot  from  La  Chapelle.  Mr.  Reed  not  liking  the 
place  where  we  first  built,  we  left  it,  and  built  farther 
up  the  river,  on  the  other  side.  After  the  second  house 
was  built,  the  people  went  to  trap  as  usual,  sometimes 
coming  home  every  night,  sometimes  sleeping  out  for 


234  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

several  nights  together  at  a  time.     Mr.  Reed  and  one 
man  generally  stayed  at  the  house. 

"  Late  one  evening,  about  the  10th  of  January,  a 
friendly  Indian  came  running  to  our  house,  in  a  great 
fright,  and  told  Mr.  Reed  that  a  band  of  the  bad  Snakes 
called  the  Dog-rib  tribe,  had  burnt  the  first  house  that 
we  had  built,  and  that  they  were  coming  on  whooping 
and  singing  the  war-song.  After  communicating  this 
intelligence,  the  Indian  went  off  immediately,  and  I 
took  up  my  two  children,  got  upon  a  horse,  and  set  off 
to  where  my  husband  was  trapping  ;  but  the  night  was 
dark,  the  road  bad,  and  I  lost  my  way.  The  next  day 
being  cold  and  stormy,  I  did  not  stir.  On  the  second 
day,  however,  I  set  out  again ;  but  seeing  a  large 
smoke  in  the  direction  I  had  to  go,  and  thinking  it 
might  proceed  from  Indians,  I  got  into  the  bushes 
again  and  hid  myself.  On  the  third  day,  late  in  the 
evening,  I  got  in  sight  of  the  hut,  where  my  husband 
and  the  other  men  were  hunting  ;  but  just  as  I  was  ap 
proaching  the  place,  I  observed  a  man  coming  from  the 
opposite  side,  and  staggering  as  if  unwell :  I  stopped 
where  I  was  till  he  came  to  me.  Le  Clerc,  wounded 
and  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  was  the  man.  He  told 
me  that  La  Chapelle,  Rezner,  and  my  husband  had 
been  robbed  and  murdered  that  morning.  I  did  not 
go  into  the  hut ;  but  putting  Le  Clerc  and  one  of  my 
children  on  the  horse  I  had  with  me,  I  turned  round 
immediately,  took  to  the  woods,  and  I  retraced  my 
steps  back  again  to  Mr.  Reed's ;  Le  Clerc,  however, 


MRS.  DORION.  235 

could  not  bear  the  jolting  of  the  horse,  and  he  fell 
once  or  twice,  so  that  we  had  to  remain  for  nearly  a 
day  in  one  place ;  but  in  the  night  he  died,  and  I 
covered  him  over  with  brushwood  and  snow,  put  my 
children  on  the  horse,  I  myself  walking  and  leading 
the  animal  by  the  halter.  The  second  day  I  got  back 
again  to  the  house.  But  sad  was  the  sight !  Mr. 
Reed  and  the  men  were  all  murdered,  scalped,  and 
cut  to  pieces.  Desolation  and  horror  stared  me  in 
the  face.  I  turned  from  the  shocking  sight  in  agony 
and  despair ;  took  to  the  woods  with  my  children  and 
horse,  and  passed  the  cold  and  lonely  night  without 
food  or  fire.  I  was  now  at  a  loss  what  'to  do :  the 
snow  was  deep,  the  weather  cold,  and  we  had  nothing 
to  eat.  To  undertake  a  long  journey  under  such  cir 
cumstances  was  inevitable  death.  Had  I  been  alone 
I  would  have  run  all  risks  and  proceeded  ;  but  the 
thought  of  my  children  perishing  with  hunger  dis 
tracted  me.  At  this  moment  a  sad  alternative  crossed 
my  mind ;  should  I  venture  to  the  house  among  the 
dead  to  seek  food  for  the  living  ?  I  knew  there  was 
a  good  stock  of  fish  there ;  but  it  might  have  been 
destroyed  or  carried  off  by  the  murderers  ;  and,  be 
sides,  they  might  be  still  lurking  about  and  see  me ; 
yet  I  thought  of  my  children.  Next  morning,  after  a 
sleepless  night,  I  wrapped  my  children  in  my  robe,  tied 
my  horse  in  a  thicket,  and  then  went  to  a  rising  ground, 
that  overlooked  the  house,  to  see  if  I  could  observe 
any  thing  stirring  about  the  place.  I  saw  nothing ; 


236  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and,  hard  as  the  task  was,  I  resolved  to  venture  aftei 
dark ;  so  I  returned  back  to  my  children,  and  found 
them  nearly  frozen,  and  I  was  afraid  to  make  a  fire  in 
the  day  time  lest  the  smoke  might  be  seen  ;  yet  I  had 
no  other  alternative,  I  must  make  a  fire  or  let  my 
children  perish.  I  made  a  fire  and  warmed  them.  I 
then  rolled  them  up  again  in  the  robe,  extinguished  the 
fire,  and  set  off  after  dark  to  the  house  ;  went  into  the 
store  and  ransacked  every  hole  and  corner,  and  at  last 
found  plenty  of  fish  scattered  about.  I  gathered,  hid, 
and  slung  upon  my  back  as  much  as  I  could  carry, 
and  returned  again  before  dawn  of  day  to  my  children. 
They  were  nearly  frozen,  and  weak  with  hunger.  I 
made  a  fire  and  warmed  them,  and  then  we  shared  the 
first  food  we  had  tasted  for  the  last  three  days.  Next 
night  I  went  back  again,  and  carried  off  another  load  ; 
but  when  these  efforts  were  over,  I  sank  under  the 
sense  of  my  afflictions,  and  was  for  three  days  unable 
to  move,  and  without  hope.  "  On  recovering  a  little, 
however,  I  packed  all  up,  loaded  my  horse,  and  putting 
my  children  on  the  top  of  the  load,  set  out  again  on 
foot,  leading  the  horse  by  the  halter  as  before.  In 
this  sad  and  hopeless  condition  I  travelled  through 
deep  snow  among  the  woods,  rocks,  and  rugged  paths 
for  nine  days,  till  I  and  the  horse  could  travel  no  more. 
"  Here  I  selected  a  lonely  spot  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
precipice,  in  the  Blue  Mountains,  intending  there  to 
pass  the  remainder  of  the  winter.  I  killed  my  horse, 
and  hung  up  the  flesh  on  a  tree  for  my  winter  food. 


MRS.  DOKION.  237 

I  built  a  small  hut  with  pine  branches,  long  grass,  and 
moss,  and  packed  it  all  round  with  snow  to  keep  us 
warm,  and  this  was  a  difficult  task,  for  I  had  no  axe, 
but  only  a  knife  to  cut  wood.  In  this  solitary  dwel 
ling  I  passed  fifty-three  lonely  days  !  I  then  left  my 
hut  and  set  out  with  my  children  to  cross  the  moun 
tains  ;  but  I  became  snow  blind  the  second  day,  and 
had  to  remain  for  three  days  without  advancing  a  step  ; 
and  this  was  unfortunate,  as  our  provisions  were  almost 
exhausted.  Having  recovered  my  sight  a  little,  I  set 
out  again,  and  got  clear  off  the  mountains,  and  down 
to  the  plains  on  the  fifteenth  day  after  leaving  my 
winter  encampment ;  but  for  six  days  we  had  scarcely 
any  thing  to  eat,  and  for  the  last  two  days  not  a 
mouthful.  Soon  after  we  had  reached  the  plains  I  per 
ceived  smoke  at  a  distance ;  but  being  unable  to  carry 
my  children  farther,  I  wrapped  them  up  in  my  robe,  left 
them  concealed,  and  set  out  alone  in  hopes  of  reaching 
the  Indian  camp,  where  I  had  seen  the  smoke ;  but  I 
was  so  weak  that  I  could  hardly  crawl,  and  had  to 
sleep  on  the  way.  Next  day,  at  noon,  I  got  to  the 
camp.  It  proved  to  belong  to  the  Walla  Wallas,  and 
I  was  kindly  treated  by  them.  Immediately  on  my 
arrival  the  Indians  set  off  in  search  of  my  children, 
and  brought  them  to  the  camp  the  same  night.  Here 
we  staid  for  two  days,  and  then  moved  on  to  the  river, 
expecting  to  hear  something  of  the  white  people  on 
their  way  either  up  or  down.'* 

The  poor  woman  was  well  provided  for  by  the  whites 


238  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

at  Walla  Walla ;  but  it  was  a  long  time  before  she  re 
covered  from  the  suffering  and  exertion  of  her  extra 
ordinary  journey.  It  will  be  observed  that  in  her  nar 
rative,  Mrs.  Dorion  mentions  that  on  several  occa 
sions  she  was  about  to  yield  to  despair,  to  resign  herself 
to  her  fate,  and  perish  without  further  struggles.  But 
the*  feelings  of  the  mother  interfered.  Her  children's 
lives  were  at  stake,  and  she  could  not  look  on  quietly 
and  see  them  freeze  or  starve.  She  lived  and  struggled 
for  their  salvation,  and  God  willed  that  she  should  be 
successful. 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF 
MALE  EMIGRANTS. 

IN  many  cases,  where  the  "  weaker"  sex  are  brought 
m  direct  rivalry  of  endurance  with  their  sterner  com 
panions,  they  prove  that  they  are  at  least  equal ;  and 
when  the  difference  of  habit  and  occupation  are  taken 
into  consideration,  we  are  compelled  to  a  yard  the 
fresher  laurels  to  woman. 

In  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1846,  a  party  of 
California  emigrants  met  with  a  series  of  disasters 
never  before  experienced  by  adventurers  upon  the 
western  plains,  and  of  a  nature  so  terrible  that  the 
bare  recital  is  painful.  The  party  consisted  of  J.  F. 
Reed,  wife,  and  four  children ;  Jacob  Donner,  wife, 
and  seven  children;  William  Pike,  wife,  and  two 
children ;  William  Foster,  wife,  and  one  child, ;  Lewis 
Kiesburg,  wife,  and  one  child ;  Mrs.  Murphy,  a  widow 
woman,  and  five  children;  William  M'Cutchen.  wife, 
and  one  child ;  W.  H.  Eddy,  wife,  and  two  children ; 
W.  Graves,  wife,  and  eight  children ;  Jay  Fosdicka 
and  his  wife ;  Noah  James,  Patrick  Dolan,  Samue1 

(239s! 


240  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Shoemaker,  John  Denton,  C.  F,  Stanton,  Milton  El 

liot, Smith,  Joseph  Bianhard,  Augustus  Spizer, 

John  Baptiste,  Antoine,  Herring, 

• Hallerin,  Charles  Burger,  and  Baylis  Williams. 

The  party  was  well  supplied  with  wagons,  teams, 
cattle,  provision,  arms,  and  ammunition. 

At  the  camp,  on  the  Sweet  Water  river,  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  party  was 
induced"  by  the  representations  of  one  Lansford  W. 
Hastings,  to  take  a  new  route  to  California,  and  they 
started  through  an  unknown  region,  full  of  hope,  and 
of  a  speedy  journey.  But  they  found  great  difficulty 
in  proceeding,  even  before  they  came  to  the  Utah 
valley.  One  part  of  the  road  had  to  be  cut  through 
a  wood,  and  the  emigrants  were  occupied  thirty  days 
in  travelling  forty  miles.  On  the  1st  day  of  Septem 
ber,  they  pursued  their  journey  around  the  south  side 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  through  a  beautiful  val 
ley,  since  occupied  by  the  Mormons.  There  they 
were  detained  a  short  time,  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Hal 
lerin,  and  an  accident  to  a  wagon.  Soon  after  resum 
ing  their  journey,  the  party  was  compelled  to  travel 
two  days  without  finding  grass  or  water,  and  many  of 
their  cattle  died  from  exhaustion.  After  this  perilous 
drive,  gloomy  forebodings  seized  upon  the  stoutest 
hearts  among  the  emigrants. 

Many  families  were  completely  ruined.  They  were 
yet  in  a  country  of  hostile  Indians,  far  from  all  succor, 
betrayed  by  one  of  their  own  countrymen.  They 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    241 

could  not  tell  what"  was  the  character  of  the  road  yet 
before  them,  since  the  man  in  whose  veracity  they  re 
posed  confidence,  had  proved  himself  so  utterly  un 
worthy  of  it.  To  retreat  across  the  desert  to  Bridger 
was  impossible.  There  was  no  way  left  to  them,  but 
to  advance ;  and  this  they  now  regarded  as  perilous  in 
the  extreme.  The  cattle  that  survived  were  exhausted 
and  broken  down ;  but  to  remain  there  was  to  die. 
Feeble  and  .dispirited,  therefore,  they  slowly  resumed 
cheir  journey. 

On  this  drive  thirty-six  head  of  working  cattle  were 
lost,  and  the  oxen  that  survived  were  greatly  injured. 
One  of  Mr.  Reed's  wagons  was  brought  to  camp  ;  and 
two,  with  all  they  contained,  were  buried  in  the  plain. 
George  Donner  lost  one  wagon.  Kiesburg  also  lost  a 
wagon.  The  atmosphere  was  so  dry  upon  the  plain, 
that  the  wood-work  of  all  the  wagons  shrank  to  a  de 
gree  that  made  it  next  to  impossible  to  get  any  of 
them  through. 

Having  yoked  some  loose  cows,  as  a  team  for  Mr. 
Reed,  they  broke  up  their  camp  on  the  morning  of 
September  16th,  and  resumed  their  toilsome' journey, 
with  feelings  which  can  be  appreciated  by  those  only 
who  have  travelled  the  road  under  somewhat  similar 
circumstances.  On  this  day  they  travelled  six  miles, 
encountering  a  very  severe  snow  storm.  About  three 
o'clock,  P.  M.,  they  met  Milton  Elliot  and  William 
Graves,  returning  from  a  fruitless  effort  to  find  some 
cattle  that  had  got  off.  .They  informed  them  that  they 
16 


242  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

were  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  spring,  at  which  com 
menced  another  dry  drive  of  forty  miles.  They  en 
camped  for  the  night,  and  at  dawn  of  day  of  Septem 
ber  17th,  they  resumed  their  journey,  and  at  four 
o'clock,  A.  M.,  of  the  18th,  they  arrived  at  water  and 
grass,  some  of  their  cattle  having  perished,  and  the 
teams  which  survived  being  in  a  very  enfeebled  con 
dition.  Here  the  most  of  the  little  property  which 
Mr.  Reed  still  had,  was  buried,  or  cached,  together 
with  that  of  others.  Here,  Mr.  Eddy  proposed  putting 
his  team  to  Mr.  Reed's  wagon,  and  letting  Mr.  Pike 
have  his  wagon,  so  that  the  three  families  could  be 
taken  on.  This  was  done.  They  remained  in  camp 
during  the  day  of  the  18th  to  complete  these  arrange 
ments,  and  to  recruit  their  exhausted  cattle. 

The  journey  was  continued  with  scarcely  any  inter 
ruption  or  accident,  until  the  1st  of  October,  when 
some  Indians  stole  a  yoke  of  oxen  from  Mr.  Graves. 
Other  thefts  followed,  and  it  became  evident  that  the 
party  would  suffer  severely,  from  the  hostility  of  the 
of  the  Indians.  The  women  were  kept  in  continual 
,  alarm  by  the  proximity  of  the  savages,  and  the  pros 
pects  of  their  depredations.  A  large  number  of  cattle 
were  stolen  or  shot  by  these  merciless  marauders. 

On  the  morning  of  October  12th,  the  emigrants 
resumed  their  journey.  One  of  Mr.  Eddy's  oxen  gave 
out  during  the  day,  and  they  left  him.  At  twelve 
o'clock  at  night  they  encamped  at  the  sinks  of  Ogden's 
river.  At  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the  13th  they 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    243 

drove  their  cattle  to  grass,  and  put  them  under  a  guard. 
The  guard  came  in  to  breakfast,  and  in  their  absence 
the  Indians  killed  twenty-one  head,  including  the 
whole  of  Mr.  Eddy's  team,  except  one  ox;  the  whole 
of  "Wolfinger's,  except  one.  Wolfinger  wished  to  cache 
his  goods  at  the  sinks,  but  the  company  refused  to  wait. 
Rianhard  and  Spitzer,  who  was  travelling  with  him,  re 
mained  behind  to  assist  him.  Three  days  afterward 
the  two  former  came  up  to  the  company  at  Truckee 
river,  and  said  that  the  Indians  came  down  from  the 
hills  upon  them,  and  after  killing  Wolfinger,  drove 
them  from  the  wagons,  which  they  burned,  after  taking 
the  goods  out. 

Here  Mr.  Eddy  cached  every  thing  he  had,  except 
the  clothing  which  he  and  his  family  had  on.  On  this 
morning  they  partook  of  their  last  remaining  mouthful 
of  food.  The  Indians  were  upon  the  adjacent  hills, 
looking  down  upon  them,  and  absolutely  laughing  at 
their  calamity.  The  lock  of  Mr.  Eddy's  rifle  had  been 
broken  some  days  before,  and  the  gun  left.  He  could 
not  obtain  one,  and  had  he  been  able  to  do  so,  it  would 
have  been  worse  than  insanity  for  him  to  have  encoun 
tered  the  Indians  alone.  Dejected  and  sullen,  he  took 
up  about  three  pounds  of  loaf  sugar,  put  some  bullets 
in  his  pocket,  and  stringing  his  powder-horn  upon  his 
shoulders,  took  up  his  boy  in  his  arms,  while  his  afflicted 
Eleanor  carried  their  still  more  helpless  infant,  and 
in  this  most  miserable  and  forlorn  plight,  they  set  out 
once  more  on  foot  to  make  their  way  through  the  pitj- 


244  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

less  wilderness.  Trackless,  snow-clad  mountains  in 
tercepted  their  progress,  and  seemed  to  present  an  im 
passable  barrier  to  all  human  succor  :  — mountains, 
the  passage  of  which,  with  even  the  accessories  of 
emigrant  wagons,  and  in  the  most  pleasant  season, 
would  have  been  a  feat  of  no  small  difficulty.  Without 
shoes — these  having  been  worn  out  by  the  jagged 
rocks — they  had  nothing  to  protect  their  feet  but  moc 
casins,  which  were  also  so  much  worn  as  to  be  of  little 
service.  Their  painful  and  perilous  way  led  over  broker 
rocks,  presenting  acute  angles,  or  prickly  pears,  which 
alike  lacerated  their  feet  in  the  most  dreadful  manner. 
Nature  disputed  their  passage,  and  Heaven  seemed  to 
be  offended.  They  struggled  on,  however,  with  their 
precious  charge,  without  food  or  water,  until  4  o'clock 
on  the  morning  of  the  14th,  when  they  arrived  at  a 
spring  that  jetted  up  a  column  of  boiling  hot  water, 
about  twenty  feet  high.  It  was  situated  in  a  region 
that  had  been  rent  into  millions  of  fragments  by  vol 
canic  fires.  The  desolation  was  such  as  to  impress 
upon  the  mind  the  idea  of  expiring  nature  convulsed 
with  the  throes  and  agonies  of  the  last  great  and  ter 
rible  day,  or  of  an  angry  Deity  having  taken  vengeance 
on  a  guilty  world.  Having  obtained  some  coffee  from 
Mrs.  Donner,  Mr.  Eddy  put  it  into  a  pot,  and  thus 
boiled  it  in  the  hot  spring  for  the  nourishment  of  his 
wife  and  children,  refusing  to  partake  of  it  himself. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  party  left  the  Geyser  Spring 
and  travelled  all  that  day  until  sunset,  over  a  road  ir 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    245 

no  respect  different  from  that  of  the  13th.  At  thia 
time  Mr.  Eddy's  little  children  were  in  great  danger 
of  perishing  for  the  want  of  water.  He  applied  to 
Patrick  Brinn,  who  he  knew  had  ten  gallons,  for  a 
half  pint  to  give  to  them.  Brinn  denied  having  any  ; 
but  this  Mr.  Eddy  knew  to  be  untrue,  for  he  had  him 
self  filled  Brinn's  cask  at  the  sinks  of  OgderA  river ; 
Brinn  finally  admitted  that  he  had  water,  but  he  said 
he  did  not  know  how  far  water  was  yet  distant  from 
them,  and  he  feared  his  own  family  would  require  it. 
Mr.  Eddy  told  him  with  an  energy  he  never  before 
felt,  that  he  would  have  it  or  have  Brinn's  life.  He 
immediately  turned  away  from  Brinn,  and  went  m 
quest  of  the  water  and  gave  some  to  his  children. 

At  sunset  they  arrived  at  an  exceedingly  difficult 
sand-ridge  of  ten  miles  in  width.  They  crossed  it 
about  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  15th,  the 
company  losing  three  yoke  of  cattle  that  died  from 
fatigue. 

Neither  Mr.  Eddy  nor  his  wife  had  tasted  food  for 
two  days  and  nights,  nor  had  the  children  any  thing 
except  the  sugar  with  which  he  left  the  sinks  at  Ogden's 
river.  He  applied  to  Mrs.  Graves  and  Mrs.  Brinn  for 
a  small  piece  of  meat  for  his  wife  and  children,  who 
were  very  faint.  They  both  refused.  The  emigrants 
remained  in  camp  to  rest  the  cattle.  The  Indians  killed 
some  of  them  during  the  day. 

Mr.  Eddy  procured  a  gun  in  the  morning,  and 
started  to  kill  some  geese  which  he  heard.  In  about 


246*  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST.' 

two  hours  he  returned  with  nine  very  fat  ones.  Mrs. 
Brinn  and  Mrs.  Graves  congratulated  him,  and  ex 
pressed  the  opinion  that  they  were  very  fine,  and  won 
dered  what  he  would  do  with  them.  He  invited  them 
to  help  themselves,  and  they  each  took  two.  He  gave 
Kiesburg  one. 

October  16th,  early  in  the  morning,  they  resumed 
their  journey,  and  commenced  driving  up  Truckee 
river.  Nothing  of  importance  occurred  until  October 
19th,  about  ten  o'clock,  A.M.,  when  they  met  Mr.  C. 
F.  Stanton  and  two  Indian  vaqueros  (cow-herds)  of 
Captain  Sutter,  one  named  Lewis,  and  the  other  Sal- 
vadore.  Mr.  Stanton  had  flour  and  a  little  dried 
meat,  which  he  had  procured  for  them. 

William  Pike  was  killed  by  the  accidental  discharge 
of  a  six-shooter  in  the  hands  of  William  Foster.  He 
died  in  one  hour :  he  was  shot  through  in  the  back. 

On  the  evening  of  October  22d,  they  crossed  the 
Truckee  river,  the  forty-ninth  and  last  time,  in  eighty 
miles.  They  encamped  on  the  top  of  a  hill.  Here 
nineteen  oxen  were  shot  by  an  Indian,  who  put  one 
arrow  in  each  ox.  The  cattle  did  not  die.  Mr.  Eddy 
caught  him  in  the  act,  and  fired  upon  him  as  he  fled. 
The  ball  struck  him  between  the  shoulders,  and  came 
out  at  the  breast.  At  the  crack  of  the  rifle  he  sprung 
up  about  three  feet,  and  with  a  terrible  yell  fell  down  a 
bank  into  a  bunch  of  willows. 

On  the  morning  of  October  23d  they  resumed  their 
journey,  and  continued  travelling  without  any  thing 


WONI/ERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    247 

of  importance  occurring  until  October  28th  at  dark, 
when  they  encamped  upon  Truckee  Lake,  situated  at 
the  foot  of  Fremont's  Pass  of  the  main  chain  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  The  Pass  is  here  nine  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  thirty  eight  feet  high. 

On  the  morning  of  October  the  29th,  they  again  con 
tinued  their  journey,  and  went  on  within  three  miles 
of  the  top  of  the  Pass,  where  they  found  the  snow  about 
five  feet  deep.  This  compelled  them  to  return  to  a 
cabin,  which  was  situated  one  mile  in  advance  of  their 
camp  of  the  previous  night.  Here  they  remained  in 
camp  during  the  30th.  At  dark  their  fellow-travellers, 
Stanton,  Graves,  the  Donners  and  some  others,  came 
up.  On  the  morning  of  October  31st  the  whole  body 
again  started  to  cross  the  mountain.  They  succeeded 
in  getting  within  three  miles  of  the  top  of  the  Pass. 
The  snow  had  deepened  to  about  ten  feet.  The  night 
was  bitterly  cold  ;  the  wind  howled  through  the  trees, 
and  the  snow  and  hail  descended.  Finding  it  utterly 
impossible  to  cross,  they  commenced  retracing  their 
step?  on  the  morning  of  November  1st,  and  arrived 
at  the  cabin  about  four  o'clock.* 

The  emigrants  now  saw  that  they  would  be  com 
pelled  to  winter  where  they  were,  and  they  set  to  work 
to  build  cabins  and  collect  provisions.  On  the  12tb 
of  November,  a  party,  headed  by  Mr.  Eddy,  started  to 
cross  the  mountains  on  foot,  and  obtain  relief  for  the 
families  left  behind.  The  parting  between  the  hus* 
*«*  Oregon  and  California,"  by  Thornton. 


248  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

bands  and  wives  was  affecting,  for  neither  knew  but 
that  it  would  be  final.  But  the  snow  was  found  to  be 
so  deep  upon  the  mountains,  that  the  party  could  not 
proceed,  and  it  returned  to  the  camp.  Mr.  Eddy  now 
succeeded  in  killing  a  grizzly  bear  and  some  game, 
but  starvation  began  to  stare  the  emigrants  in  the  face. 
On  the  21st  of  November,  six  women  and  sixteen 
men,  including  Stanton  and  two  Indians,  made  another 
effort  to  cross  the  mountains  on  foot.  They  reached 
the  western  side  of  the  mountain,  but  there  Stanton 
refused  to  proceed,  in  consequence  of  not  being  able 
to  get  along  with  seven  mules  belonging  -to  Captain 
Sutter.  Mr.  Eddy  argued  and  threatened  in  vain ; 
and  the  party  was  once  more  compelled  to  return  to 
camp.  A  violent  snow  storm  now  set  in,  and  it  be 
came  exceedingly  difficult  for  the  emigrants  to  obtain 
wood,  to  protect  themselves  against  the  severity  of  the 
weather.  The  sufferings  of  the  women  were  intense, 
but,  according  to  the  testimony  of  the  survivors  of  this 
trying  time,  they  bore  it  with  extraordinary  fortitude. 
The  snow  continued  to  fall  until  the  5th  of  December, 
and,  when  the  clouds  broke  away,  the  emigrants  found 
it  eight  feet  deep.  The  sunshine,  however,  cheered 
them  somewhat  and  some  of  the  party  manufactured 
snow-shoes  to  make  another  attempt  at  crossing  the 
mountains.  On  the  llth,  the  snow  again  descended, 
and  the  hearts  of.  the  emigrants  died  within  them.  On 
the  14th,  Baylis  Williams  died  of  starvation.  Severa^ 
others  of  the  party  seemed  about  to  meet  the  same  fate 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    24(J 

On  the  16th  of  December,  the  following  personi 
started  on  snow-shoes  to  cross  the  mountains :  Sarah 
Fosdick,  Mary  Graves,  William  Foster,  Sarah  Foster, 
C.  F.  Stanton,  William  Graves,  Jay  Fosdick,  William 
Murphy,  Patrick  Dolan,  Antoine,  Lewis,  Salvadore; 
Charles  Burger,  Harriet  Pike,  Lemuel  Murphy, 
Mrs.  M'Cutchen,  and  William  Eddy.  The  parting 
between  Eddy  and  his  wife  has  been  described  by  the 
husband  as  agonizing  in  the  extreme.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  journey,  two  men,  William  Murphy  and 
Charles  Burger,  were  compelled  by  weakness  to  turn 
back. 

The  others  pressed  on,  and,  on  the  third  day,  they 
encamped  on  the  west  side  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  On 
the  22d  of  December,  they  consumed  the  last  of  their 
little  stock  of  provisions.  The  next  day,  Mr.  Eddy, 
while  examining  a  bag  for  the  purpose  of  throwing 
out  something,  to  enable  him  to  get  along  with  more 
ease,  found  about  half  a  pound  of  bear's  meat,  to  which 
was  attached  a  paper,  on  which  his  wife  had  written  a 
note,  signed,  "Your  own  dear  Eleanor,"  in  which  she 
requested  him  to  save  it  for  the  last  extremity,  and 
expressed  the  opinion  that  it  would  be  the  means  of 
saving  his  life.  The  self-sacrifice  involved  in  the  little 
present  can  scarcely  be  conceived  by  those  who  are 
enjoying  plenty.  While  the  wife  knew  that  every 
morsel  of  food  she  had  would  be  necessary  to  sustain 
her  and  -  her  children,  until  the  return  of  the  party, 
she  had  voluntary  yielded  a  portion  in  the  hope  that 


250  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

her  husband  might  be  saved.     She  was  ready  to  die 
that  he  might  live. 

Mr.  Stanton  fell  behind  and  perished  soon  after 
provisions  failed.  On  Christmas  day,  the  snow  fall 
ing  fast,  the  party  held  a  council,  for  the  purpose  of 
determining  whether  to  proceed.  All  the  men  but 
Mr.  Eddy,  refused  to  go  forward.  The  women  and 
Mr.  Eddy  declared  they  would  go  through  or  perish. 
It  was  now  proposed  that  one  person  should  be  sacri 
ficed  to  furnish  food  for  the  rest.  This  met  with  a 
determined  opposition,  and  the  miserable  travellers 
continued  to  plod  on  for  a  few  miles.  They  then 
encamped;  but  the  wind  prevented  them  having  a 
fire.  That  night,  Antoine,  Mr.  Graves,  and  Patrick 
Dolan,  perished  of  hunger  and  cold,  and  Lemuel  Mur 
phy  became  deranged.  Mr.  Eddy,  retaining  his  re 
sources  of  mind,  devised  various  ways  of  keeping  the 
rest  of  the  party  alive.  A  fire  was  now  built.  Por 
tions  of  the  body  of  Patrick  Dolan  were  eaten  by  the 
famished  travellers,  except  Mr.  Eddy.  Lemuel  Mur 
phy  died.  Never  were  more  horrors  concentrated 
upon  one  spot  than  was  witnessed  at  that  "  Camp  of 
Death."  The  women,  singularly  enough,  endured 
their  privation  with  a  fortitude  that  called  forth  the 
admiration  of  Mr.  Eddy. 

On  the  29th  of  December,  the  party  left  the  "  Camp 
of  Death,"  and  marched  slowly  onward.  Their  In 
dian  guides  declared  that  they  had  lost  the  way,  but 
they  still  moved  forward.  All  their  provisions  were 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    251 

now  consumed.  On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  January, 
1847,  Mr.  Eddy,  seeing  that  all  would  soon  perish, 
unless  food  was  quickly  obtained,  resolved  to  take  the 
gun,  and  press  forward  alone.  He  informed  tne  party 
of  his  purpose.  The  women  besought  him  not  to  leave 
them.  Mary  Graves,  who  had  more  strength  than 
the  other  women,  resolved  that  she  would  go  with  him 
or  perish.  The  two  set  forward.  Soon  afterwards, 
Eddy  had  the  great  good  fortune  to  shoot  a  deer,  and 
that  night  the  couple  made  a  meal  upon  the  entrails 
of  the  animal.  The  next  day,  the  rest  of  the  party, 
with  the  exception  of  Jay  Fosdick,  who  had  perished 
during  the  preceding  night,  were  relieved.  The  emi 
grants,  somewhat  refreshed,  then  pursued  their  jour 
ney.  The  Indians,  Lewis  and  Salvadore,  being  threat 
ened  with  death  at  the  hands  of  the  famished  party, 
had,  some  days  before,  stolen  away — so  that  there 
now  remained  five  women,  Mary  Graves,  Mrs.  Pike, 
Mrs.  M'Cutchen,  Mrs.  Foster,  and  Mrs.  Fosdick,  in 
charge  of  Mr.  Eddy  and  Mr.  Foster.  Foster  was 
weak,  and,  at  times,  insane ;  so  that  Mr.  Eddy  alone, 
was  able  to  guide  the  females. 

After  the  body  of  the  deer  had  been  consumed,  the 
party  fell  upon  the  tracks  of  the  two  Indians.  Foster 
overtook  and  killed  them  both.  The  flesh  was  then 
cut  from  their  bones  and  dried.  On  the  10th  of  Jan 
uary,  when  the  emigrants  were  almost  exhausted,  and 
even  Mr.  Eddy  was  beginning  to  despair,  they  arrived 
at  an  Indian  village,  where  they  were  hospitably  re- 


252  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

ceived  and  their  immediate  wants  satisfied.  The  In 
dians  accompanied  them  to  the  house  of  Colonel  M.  D, 
Richey,  where  better  fare  was  provided  than  the  poor 
Indians  possessed.  Mr.  Eddy  was  immediately  put  to 
bed,  being  completely  exhausted  by  the  privations  of 
his  awful  journey. 

The  government  of  California  being  informed  of  the 
imminent  peril  of  the  emigrants  in  the  mountain  camp, 
took  measures  to  send  out  relief;  and  a  number  of  in 
habitants  contributed  articles  of  clothing  and  provi 
sions.  Two  expeditions,  however,  failed  to  cross  the 
mountains  in  consequence  of  the  depth  of  the  snow. 
At  length,  a  party  of  seven  men,  headed  by  Aquilla 
Glover  and  accompanied  by  Mr.  Eddy,  who,  though 
weak,  insisted  on  returning  to  ascertain  the  fate  of  his 
beloved  wife  and  children,  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
mountains  and  reaching  the  camp.  What  they  found 
there  is  best  described  by  Judge  Thornton,  from  whose 
graphic  account  of  this  disastrous  expedition  we  have 
condensed  the  above. 

They  arrived  at  The  Mountain  Camp  as  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  departing  from  the  tops 
of  the  mountains.  Every  thing  was  as  silent  as  the 
grave.  A  painful  stillness  pervaded  the  scene.  Upon 
some  of  the  party  raising  a  shout,  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  their  cabins,  by  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
living — if,  indeed,  any  did  live — the  sufferers  were 
seen  coming  out  of  the  snow-holes,  from  the  cabins, 
which  were  completely  covered,  the  snow  presenting 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    '253 

one  unbroken  level.  They  tottered  toward  their  de 
liverers,  manifesting  a  delirium  of  iov.  and  acting  in 
the  wildest  and  most  extravagant  manner.  Some 
wept ;  some  laughed.  All  inquired,  "  Have  you 
brought  any  thing  for  me?"  Many  of  them  had  a 
peculiarly  wild  expression  of  the  eye ;  all  looked 
haggard,  ghastly,  and  horrible.  The  flesh  was  wasted 
from  their  bodies,  and  the  skin  seemed  to  have  dried 
upon  their  bones.  Their  voices  were  weak  and  sepul 
chral  ;  and  the  whole  scene  conveyed  to  the  mind  the 
idea  of  that  shout  having  awakened  the  dead  from 
the  snows.  Fourteen  of  their  number,  principally 
men,  had  already  died  from  starvation,  and  many 
more  were  so  reduced,  that  it  was  almost  certain  they 
would  never  rise  from  the  miserable  beds  upon  which 
they  had  lain  down.  The  unhappy  survivors  were,  in 
short,  in  a  condition  the  most  deplorable,  and  beyond 
the  power  of  language  to  describe,  or  of  the  imagina 
tion  to  conceive.  The  annals  of  human  suffering  no 
where  present  a  more  appalling  spectacle,  than  that 
which  blasted  the  eyes  and  sickened  the  hearts  of 
those  brave  men,  whose  indomitable  courage  and  per 
severance,  in  the  face  of  so  many  dangers,  hardships, 
and  privations,  snatched  some  of  these  miserable  sur 
vivors  from  the  jaws  of  death,  and  who,  for  having 
done  so  much,  merit  the  lasting  gratitude  and  respect 
of  every  man  who  has  a  heart  to  feel  for  human  woe, 
or  a  hand  to  afford  relief. 

Many  of  the  sufferers   had  been  living  for  weeks 


25  I  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

upon  bullocks'  hides,  and  even  this  sort  of  food  was  so 
nearly  exhausted  with  some,  that  they  were  about  to 
dig  up  from  the  snow  the  bodies  of  their  companions, 
for  the  purpose  of  prolonging  their  wretched  lives. 
Mrs.  Reed,  who  lived  in  Brinn's  cabin,  had,  during 
a  considerable  length  of  time,  supported  herself  and 
four  children,  by  cracking  and  boiling  again  the  bones 
from  which  Brinn's  family  had  carefully  scraped  all 
the  flesh.  These  bones  she  had  often  taken,  and 
boiled  again  and  again,  for  the  purpose  of  extracting 
the  least  remaining  portion  of  nutriment.  Mrs.  Eddy 
and  her  children  had  perished. 

Some  of  the  emigrants  had  been  making  prepara 
tions  for  death,  and  at  morning  and  evening  the  in 
cense  of  prayer  and  thanksgiving  ascended  from 
their  cheerless  and  comfortless  dwellings.  Others 
there  were,  who  cursed  God,  cursed  the  snow,  and 
cursed  the  mountain,  and  in  the  wildest  frenzy  de 
plored  their  miserable  and  hard  fate.  Some  poured 
bitter  imprecations  upon  the  head  of  L.  W.  Hastings, 
for  having  deceived  them  as  to  the  road  upon  which 
he  had  conducted  them ;  and  all  united  in  common 
fears  of  a  common  and  inevitable  death.  Many  of 
them  had,  in  a  great  measure,  lost  all  self-respect. 
Untold  sufferings  had  broken  their  spirits,  and  pros 
trated  every  thing  like  an  honorable  and  commendable 
pride.  Misfortune  had  dried  up  the  fountains  of  the 
heart ;  and  the  dead,  whom  their  weakness  had  made 
it  impossible  to  carry  out,  were  dragged  from  their 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    25£ 

cabins  by  means  of  ropes,  with  an  apathy  that  afforded 
a  laiiit  indication  of  the  extent  of  the  change  which  a 
few  weeks  of  dire  suffering  had  produced,  in  hearts 
that  once  sympathized  with  the  distressed,  and  mourned 
the  departed.  With  many  of  them,  all  principle,  too, 
had  been  swept  away  by  this  tremendous  torrent  of 
accumulated  and  accumulating  calamities.  It  became 
necessary  to  place  a  guard  over  the  little  store  of  pro 
visions  brought  to  their  relief;  and  they  stole  and  de 
voured  the  raw-hide  strings  from  the  snow-shoes  of 
those  who  had  come  to  deliver  them.  But  some  there 
were,  whom  no  temptation  could  seduce,  no  suffering 
move ;  who  were 

44  Among  the  faithless,  faithful  still." 

Upon  going  down  into  the  cabins  of  this  Mountain 
Camp,  the  party  were  presented  with  sights  of  woe, 
and  scenes  of  horror,  the  full  tale  of  which  never  will 
be  tfold,  and  never  ought ;  sights  which,  although  the 
emigrants  had  not  yet  commenced  eating  the  dead, 
were  so  revolting,  that  they  were  compelled  to  with 
draw,  and  make  a  fire  where  they  would  not  be  under 
the  necessity  of  looking  upon  the  painful  spectacle. 

On  the  morning  of  February  20th,  John  Rhodes, 
Daniel  Tucker,  and  R.  S.  Mootrey,  went  to  the  camp 
of  George  Donner  eight  miles  distant,  taking  with 
them  a  little  beef.  These  sufferers  were  found  with 
but  one  hide  remaining.  They  had  determined,  thai, 
upon  consuming  this,  they  would  dig  up  from  the  sno\* 


256  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  bodies  of  those  who  had  died  from  starvation.  Mr, 
Donner  was  helpless.  Mrs.  Dormer  was  weak,  but  in 
good  health,  and  might  have  come  into  the  settlements 
with  Mr.  Glover's  party,  yet  she  solemnly  but  calmly 
declared  her  determination  to  remain  with  her  husband, 
and  perform  for  him  the  last  sad  offices  of  affection 
and  humanity.  And  this  she  did,  in  full  view  of  the 
fact,  that  she  must  necessarily  perish  by  remaining 
behind. 

On  the  evening  of  the  20th,  the  party  that  had  gone 
down  to  Mr.  Donner's  camp  in  the  morning,  returned, 
bringing  seven  persons  with  them. 

The  next  day,  at  noon,  the  party,  after  leaving  all 
the  provisions  they  could  spare,  commenced  their  re 
turn  from  the  Mountain  Camp  to  the  settlement,  with 
twenty-three  persons,  principally  women  and  children. 
The  results  of  the  disastrous  and  horrible  journey  of 
Eddy  and  Foster  were  carefully  concealed  from  these 
poor  sufferers.  To  have  acted  otherwise  would  have 
been  to  overwhelm  them  with  fear  and  despondency, 
and  this  in  their  condition  would  have  proved  fatal. 

Mrs.  Pike's  child  and  Mrs.  Kiesburg's  were  carried 
by  the  party.  After  proceeding  about  two  miles,  two 
of  Mrs.  Reed's  children  gave  out ;  the  one  a  little  girl 
of  eight  years  old,  and  the  other  a  little  boy  of  four. 
It  became  absolutely  necessary,  therefore,  to  Return 
them  to  the  Mountain  Camp,  or  to  abandon  them  upon 
the  way.  The  mother  was  informed  by  Mr.  Glover, 
that  it  was  necessary  to  take  them  back.  And 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    257 

ensued  that  which  is  hoped  none  may  ever  be  called 
upon  to  witness  again.  She  was  a  wife,  and  affection 
for  her  husband,  then  in  the  settlement,  no  doubt  sug 
gested  her  going  on.  But  she  was  a  mother,  also ; 
and  maternal  love — the  strongest  of  all  feelings,  that 
most  powerful  of  all  instincts — determined  her,  inline* 
diately,  to  send  forward  the  two  children  who  could 
walk,  while  she  would  go  back  with  the  two  youngest, 
and  die  with  them.  It  was  impossible  for  Mr.  Glover 
to  shake  this  resolution,  although  he  promised,  that 
when  he  arrived  at  Bear  river  valley,  he  would  go 
back  for  them.  At  length  she  asked,  "Are  you  a 
mason?"  Upon  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative, 
she  said,  "  Do  you  promise  me  upon  the  word  of  a 
mason,  that  when  you  arrive  at  Bear  river  valley,  you 
will  return  and  bring  out  my  children,  if  we  shall  not, 
in  the  mean  time,  meet  their  father  going  for  them  ?" 
Mr.  Glover  replied,  "I  do  thus  promise."  She  then 
consented  to  go  on.  When  the  mother  and  children 
were  about  to  separate,  Patty,  a  little  girl  eight  years 
of  age,  took  her  mother  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Well, 
mamma,  kiss  me.  Good-bye  !  I  shall  never  see  you 
again.  I  am  willing  to  go  back  to  our  Mountain  Camp 
and  die ;  but  I  cannot  consent  to  your  going  back.  I 
shall  die  willingly,  if  I  can  believe  that  you  will  live 
to  see  papa.  Tell  him,  good-bye,  for  his  poor  Patty." 
The  mother  and  the  little  children  lingered  in  a  long 
embrace,  Being  separated,  Patty  turned  from  hei 
mother  to  go  back  to  camp.  As  Mr.  Glover  and  Mr. 
17 


258  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Mootrey  were  taking  the  children  back,  she  told  them 
that  she  was  willing  to  go  back  and  take  care  of  her 
little  brother,  but  that  she  "  should  never  see  her 
mother  again."* 

Messrs.  Glover  and  Mootrey  returned  after  the 
party  had  encamped ;  but  they  carefully  concealed 
from  Mrs.  Reed  the  fact  that  Brinn  and  his  wife  abso 
lutely  refused  to  permit  the  children  to  come  into  the 
cabin  until  many  promises  of  immediate  succor  were 
made.  On  the  return,  the  party  was  exposed  to  great 
privation.  The  cache  of  provisions  was  found  to  have 
been  completely  destroyed  by  a  cougar.  John  Denton 
perished  of  cold.  But  a  little  additional  provision 
was  brought  by  two  men  from  the  settlements.  Mrs. 
Reed  met  her  husband,  who  had  been  driven  from  the 
party,  for  some  offence,  before  its  disasters  began,  and 
who  had  never  expected  to  see  his  wife  again.  Glover's 
party  then  proceeded  in  safety  to  the  settlements, 
where  the  suffering  emigrants  were  well  provided. 

Messrs.  Reed  and  M'Cutchen  next  headed  a  party 
that  proceeded  to  the  Mountain  Camp,  with  supplies. 
Mr.  Reed  found  his  children  alive,  but  undergoing 
dreadful  sufferings.  In  some  of  the  cabins,  particu 
larly  that  of  Lewis  Kiesburg,  parts  of  human  bodies 
were  found  prepared  for  eating,  and  there  were  also 
Been  the  traces  of  many  a  horrid  feast.  Mr.  Reed 
commenced  his  return  to  the  settlements,  with  seven 
teen  of  the  unhappy  beings  who  had  wintered  in 
*  "  Oregon  and  California,"  by  Thornton. 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    259 

the  camp.  During  the  journey,  hardships  and  pri 
vations  were  endured,  to  which  tiie  journey  of  Mr. 
Eddy's  party  alone  could  furnish  a  parallel. 

The  persons  taken  under  Mr.  Reed's  guidance  were 
Patrick  Brinn,  wife,  and  five  children  ;  Mrs.  Graves 
and  four  children ;  Mary  and  Isaac  Donner,  children 
of  Jacob  Donner  ;  Solomon  Hook,  a  step-son  of  Jacob 
Donner,  and  two  of  his  children.  They  reached  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  without  much  difficulty ;  but  they 
ascertained  that  their  provisions  would  not  last  them 
more  than  a  day  and  a  half.  Mr.  Reed  then  sent 
three  men  forward  with  instructions  to  get  supplies  at 
a  cache  about  fifteen  miles  from  the  camp.  The  party 
resumed  its  journey,  crossed  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and 
after  travelling  about  ten  miles,  encamped  on  a  bleak 
point,  on  the  north  side  of  a  little  valley,  near  the 
head  of  the  Yuba  river.  A  storm  set  in,  and  con 
tinued  for  two  days  and  three  nights.  On  the  morn 
ing  of  the  third  day,  the  clouds  broke  away,  and  the 
weather  became  more  intensely  cold  than  it  had  been 
during  the  journey.  The  sufferings  of  the  emigrants 
in  their  bleak  camp  were  too  dreadful  to  be  described. 
There  was  the  greatest  difficulty  in  keeping  up  a  fire, 
and,  during  the  night,  the  women  and  children  who 
had  on  very  thin  clothing,  were  in  great  danger  of 
freezing  to  death.  When  the  storm  passed  away, 
the  whole  party  were  very  weak,  having  been  two 
days  without  taking  food.  None  were  able  to  travel 
except  Solomon  Hook  and  Patrick  Brinn  and  family. 


260  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

The  latter  said  they  would  remain  in  camp,  with  the 
disabled  ones ;  and  Mr.  Reed,  with  his  California 
friends,  his  two  children,  Solomon  Hook,  and  a  Mr, 
Miller,  pressed  forward  for  supplies.  Patty,  Mr. 
Reed's  daughter,  displayed  wonderful  powers  of  en 
durance  during  the  first  day  of  the  journey,  and  fre 
quently  encouraged  the  men  by  her  remarks.  At 
night,  the  party  was  joined  by  Messrs.  Stone  and 
Cady,  from  the  Mountain  Camp.  The  next  day,  after 
proceeding  a  short  distance,  Mr.  Reed  found  a  small 
supply  of  food  that  had  been  left  by  the  first  party 
sent  back  to  the  cache  for  provisions.  This  was  timely, 
as  Mr.  Reed  and  his  companions  had  been  four  days 
without  food.  Pressing  forward,  they  soon  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  settlements. 

Patrick  Brinn  and  the  others  left  by  Mr.  Reed,  were 
not  relieved  until  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster  led  an  ex 
pedition  from  the  settlements  to  their  camp.  A  shocking 
spectacle  was  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  adventurers 
at  what  they  appropriately  called  the  "  Starved 
Camp."  Patrick  Brinn  and  his  wife  were  *  found 
sunning  themselves,  and  apparently  unconcerned. 
They  had  consumed  the  two  children  of  Jacob  Donner. 
Mrs,  Graves's  body  was  lying  there  with  almost  all 
the  flesh  cut  away  from  her  arms  and  limbs.  Her 
breasts,  heart,  and  liver,  were  then  being  boiled  on 
the  fire.  Her  child  sat  by  the  side  of  the  mangled 
remains,  crying  bitterly.  After  these  emigrants  had 
been  supplied  with  food,  they  were  left  to  be  con 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    261 

ducted  to  the  settlements  by  three  men,  while  Messrs 
F'My  and  Foster  went  on  to  the  horrible  Mountain 
Camp.  There  mangled  remains  of  bodies  were  found 
strewed  about  the  cabins,  and  among  then)  **+  the 
emaciated  survivors,  who  had  fed  upon  human  flesh, 
and  who  then  resembled  demons.  Kiesburg  had  de 
voured  Mr.  Eddy's  child,  even  when  other  food  was  to 
be  obtained,  and  the  enraged  father  was  with  difficulty 
restrained  from  killing  him  upon  the  spot. 

The  party  of  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster,  upon  their 
arrival  at  the  Mountain  Camp,  found  five  living  child 
ren,  to  wit ;  three  of  George  Donner's,  one  of  Jacob 
Donner's,  and  one  of  Mrs.  Murphy's.  They  also 
found  a  man  whose  name  is  Clarke.  He  was  a  shoe 
maker. 

Clarke  had  gone  out  with  Mr.  Reed,  under  the  pre 
tence  of  assisting  emigrants.  He  was  found  with  a 
pack  of  goods  upon  his  back,  weighing  about  forty- 
pounds,  and  also  two  guns,  about  fco  set  off  with  his 
booty.  This  man  actually  carried  away  this  property 
which  weighed  more  than  did  a  child  he  left  behind  to 
perish.  But  this  is  not  the  only  instance  of  the  pro 
perty  of  emigrants  in  distress  being  appropriated 
under  some  pretence,  or  directly  stolen  by  thieves 
who  prowled  about  the  camp. 

In  addition  to  these,  there  were  in  camp,  Mrs.  Mur 
phy,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Donner,  and  Kiesburg — the  latter, 
it  was  believed,  having  far  more  strength  to  trave1 
than  others  who  had  arrived  in  the  settlements.  But 


262  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

he  would  not  travel,  for  the  reason,  as  was  suspected, 
that  he  wished  to  remain  behind  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  the  property  and  money  of  the  dead. 

Mrs.  George  Donner  was  in  good  health,  was  some 
what  corpulent,  and  certainly  able  to  travel.  But  her 
husband  was  in  a  helpless  condition,  and  she  would 
not  consent  to  leave  him  while  he  survived.  She  ex 
pressed  her  solemn  and  unalterable  purpose,  which  no 
clanger  and  peril  could  change,  to  remain,  and  perform 
for  him  the  last  sad  offices  of  duty  and  affection.  She 
manifested,  however,  the  greatest  solicitude  for  her 
children ;  and  informed  Mr.  Eddy  that  she  had  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  in  silver,  all  of  which  she  would  give 
to  him,  if  he  would  save  the  lives  of  the  children.  He 
informed  her  that  he  would  not  carry  out  one  hundred 
dollars  for  all  that  she  had,  but  that  he  would  save 
the  children,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

The  party  had  no  provisions  to  leave  for  the  suste 
nance  of  these  unhappy  and  unfortunate  beings.  After 
remaining  about  two  hours,  Mr.  Eddy  informed  Mrs. 
Donner  that  he  was  constrained  by  the  force  of  cir 
cumstances  to  depart.  It  was  certain  that  George 
Donner  would  never  rise  from  the  miserable  bed 
upon  which  he  had  lain  down,  worn  out  by  toil,  and 
wasted  by  famine.  It  was  next  to  absolutely  certain, 
if  Mrs.  Donner  did  not  leave  her  husband,  and  avail 
herself  of  the  opportunity  then  presented  for  being 
conducted  into  the  settlement,  that  she  would  perish 
by  famine,  or  die  a  violent  death  at  the  hands  of  a 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    26£ 

cannibal.  The  instinct  of  a  mother  strongly  urged 
her  to.  accompany  her  children,  that  she  might  be  able 
to  contribute  her  own  personal  efforts  and  attention  to 
save  the  lives  of  her  offspring.  The  natural  love  of 
life,  too,  was  without  doubt  then  felt,  urging  her  to 
fly  from  a  scene  of  so  many  horrors  and  dangers.  Her 
reason  may  have  asked  the  question,  "  Why  remain 
in  the  midst  of  so  much  peril,  and  encounter  an  ine 
vitable  death — a  death  of  all  others  the  most  terrible — 
since  it  is  certain  that  nothing  can  rescue  your  hus 
band  from  the  jaws  of  the  all-devouring  grave  ?  and 
when  you  cannot  hope  to  do  better  than  beguile,  with 
your  society,  presence,  and  converse,  the  solitude  of 
the  few  hours  that  remain  of  a  life,  the  flame  of  which 
is  absolutely  flickering,  and  must  in  a  very  brief  pe 
riod  be  extinguished  in  the  darkness  and  gloom  of 
death?" 

A  woman  was  probably  never  before  placed  in  cir 
cumstances  of  greater  and  more  peculiar  trial ;  but 
her  duty  and  affection  as  a  wife  triumphed  over  all 
her  instincts  and  her  reason.  And  when  her  husband 
entreated  her  to  save  her  life  and  leave  him  to  die 
alone,  assuring  her  that  she  could  be  of  no  service  to 
him,  since  he  would  not  probably  survive,  under  any 
circumstances,  until  the  next  morning,  she  bent  over 
him,  and  with  streaming  eyes  kissed  his  pale,  emaciated, 
haggard,  and  even  then,  death-stricken  cheeks,  and 
eaid : 

"  No !  no !  dear  husband,  I  will  remain  with  you 


264  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  here  perish,  rather  than  leave  you  to  die  alone 
with  no  one  to  soothe  your  dying  sorrows,  and  to  close 
your  eyes  when  dead.  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  you. 
Life,  accompanied  with  the  reflection  that  I  had  thus 
left  you,  would  possess  for  me  more  than  the  bitter 
ness  of  death ;  and  death  would  be  sweet  with  the 
thought,  in  my  last  moments,  that  I  had  assuaged  one 
pang  of  yours  in  your  passage  into  eternity.  No ! 
no  !  this  once,  dear  husband,  I  will  disobey  you  !  No  ! 
no  !  no  !"  she  continued  sobbing  convulsively. 

The  parting  scene  between  the  parents  and  children 
is  represented  as  being  one  that  will  never  be  forgotten, 
as  long  as  reason  remains,  or  memory  performs  its 
functions.  My  own  emotions  will  not  permit  me  to 
attempt  a  description,  which  language,  indeed,  has 
not  the  power  to  delineate.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that 
it  was  affecting  beyond  measure ;  and  that  the  last 
words  uttered  by  Mrs.  Donner,  in  tears  and  sobs,  to 
Mr.  Eddy,  were,  "  0,  save!  save  my  children  !" 

Mr.  Eddy  carried  Georgiana  Donner,  who  was  about 
six  years  old ;  Hiram  Miller  carried  Eliza  Donner, 
about  four  years  old ;  Mr.  Thompson  carried  Frances 
Ann  Donner,  about  eight  years  old  ;  William  Foster 
carried  Simon  Murphy,  eight  years  old ;  and  Clarke 
carried  his  booty,  and  left  a  child  of  one  of  the  Donnera 
to  perish. 

After  much  toil  and  privation,  this  party  reached 
the  settlements  of  California.  The  last  of  the  sur 
vivors  of  the  Mountain  Camp  having  been  taken  to 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    205 

Bear  river  valley.  The  following  was  the  result  of 
the  inquiry  as  to  those  who  perished  and  those  who 
were  saved. 

Those  who  perished  were  : — C.  F.  Stanton ;  Mr. 
Graves ;  Mrs.  Graves ;  Franklin  Graves ;  Jay  Fos- 
dick  ;  John  Denton  ;  George  Donner ;  Mrs.  Donner, 
his  wife  ;  Jacob  Donner  ;  Betsy  Donner  ;  Isaac  Don 
ner  ;  Louis  Donner ;  Samuel  Donner ;  Charles  Burger ; 
Joseph  Rianhart ;  Augustus  Spitzer ;  Samuel  Shoe 
maker  ;  James  Smith ;  Baylis  Williams ;  Bertha 
Kiesburg ;  Lewis  Kiesburg ;  Mrs.  Murphy  ;  Lemuel 
Murphy  ;  Lanthron  Murphy ;  George- Foster  ;  Catha 
rine  Pike ;  Eleanor  Eddy ;  Margaret  Eddy  ;  James 
Eddy;  Patrick  Dolan ;  Milton  Elliot ;  Lewis  and  Sal- 
vadore,  Captain  Sutter's  vaqueros.  In  all  (including 
two  who  died  before  reaching  the  Mountain  Camp)  36. 

The  following  survived: — William  Graves;  Mary 
Graves  ;  Ellen  Graves  ;  Viney  Graves  ;  Nancy  Graves ; 
Jonathan  Graves  ;  Elizabeth  Graves ;  Sarah  Fosdick  ; 
Loithy  Donner;  Leon  Donner;  Francis  Donner; 
Georgiana  Donner ;  Eliza  Donner ;  George  Donner, 
jr.;  Mary  Donner  ;  John  Baptiste  ;  Solomon  Hook ; 
Mrs.  Wolfinger ;  Lewis  Kiesburg  ;  Mrs.  Kiesburg ; 
William  Foster  ;  Sarah  Foster ;  Simon  Murphy ;  Mary 
Murphy  ;  Harriet  Pike ;  Miriam  Pike ;  Patrick  Brinn , 
Margaret  Brinn ;  John  Brinn ;  Edward  Brinn ;  Pat 
rick  Brinn,  jr.;  Simon  Brinn ;  James  Brinn ;  Peter 
Brinn ;  Isabella  Brinn ;  Eliza  Williams ;  Noah 
James ;  James  F.  Reed ;  Virginia  Reed  ;  Patty  Reed  j 


266  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

James  Reed ;  Thomas  Reed ;  William  H.  Eddy.  In 
all,  44. 

Some  of  the  unfortunate  sufferers  entirely  lost  their 
reason.  Of  this  number  was  Patrick  Dolan  at  th« 
Camp  of  Death.  His  words  were  vague  and  uncon 
nected.  He  struggled  until  he  got  out  from  under 
the  blankets.  He  called  to  Mr.  Eddy,  saying  that  he 
was  the  only  person  of  their  number  who  could  be  de 
pended  upon.  He  then  pulled  off  his  boots,  and,  di 
vesting  himself  of  nearly  all  his  clothing,  he  bade  Mr. 
Eddy  follow  him,  and  said  that  he  would  be  in  the 
settlements  in  a  few  hours.  He  was  with  great  diffi 
culty  brought  under  the  blankets,  and  held  there  until 
at  length  he  became  as  quiet  and  submissive  as  a  child ; 
when  he  soon  fell  asleep,  and  expired.  Lanthron 
Murphy  was  of  this  number  also.  Mr.  Foster  was 
likewise  insane;  but  his  insanity  was  of  a  totally  dif 
ferent  character.  He,  in  a  considerable  degree,  rea 
lized  his  situation,  and  in  some  respect  was  capable 
of  reasoning  from  cause  to  effect.  Mr.  Eddy  was 
probably  the  only  really  sane  one  of  that  party  of 
sixteen.  With  but  few  exceptions,  all  the  sufferers, 
both  those  who  perished  and  those  who  survived, 
manifested  the  same  species  of  insanity  as  did  Mr. 
Foster. 

••'•  Throughout  the  horrible  scenes  of  this  disastrous 
expedition,  the  courage,  devotion,  and  fortitude  of 
woman  were  gloriously  illustrated.  Amidst  events 
almost  too  frightful  for  thought,  the  wife  was  found 


WONDERFUL  FORTITUDE  OF  FEMALE  EMIGRANTS.    267 

ready  to  sacrifice  herself  for  her  husband,  and  the 
mother  for  her  children.  When  the  stoutest  hearts 
among  the  men  sank  under  accumulating  miseries, 
women  preserved  an  unmurmuring  calmness,  and  an 
unflinching  energy.  The  genuine  strength  of  human 
creatures — the  power  of  soul  over  body — was  there 
shown  to  be  possessed  in  a  greater  degree  by  woman 
than  man — and  amid  the  savage  winter  of  the  wilder 
ness,  among  horrid  feasts,  when  to  save  themselves 
from  death,  men  became  brutes,  woman's  true  nobility 
shone  forth  in  all  its  splendor.  The  record  of  this 
expedition  will  always  have  a  thrilling  interest  on 
account  of  the  startling  incidents ;  but  as  a  memorial 
of  what  woman  may  endure  and  accomplish,  it  will 
be  more  valuable. 


MISS  WASHBUEN. 

IN  the  following  thrilling  adventure  of  two  scouts, 
a, part  was  performed  by  a  young  girl,  which  did  high 
honor  to  her  spirit  and  resolution. 

As  early  as  the  year  1790,  the  block-house  and 
stockade,  above  the  mouth  of  the  Hockhocking  river, 
was  a  frontier  post  for  the  hardy  pioneers  of  that  por 
tion  of  the  state  from  the  Hockhocking  to  the  Scioto, 
and  from  the  Ohio  to  our  northern  Lakes.  Then  na 
ture  wore  her  undisturbed  livery  of  dark  and  thick 
forests,  interspersed  with  green  and  flowery  prairies. 
Then  the  axe  of  the  woodman  had  not  been  heard  in 
the  wilderness,  nor  the  plough  of  the  husbandman 
marred  the  business,  of  the  green  prairies.  Among  the 
many  rich  and  luxuriant  valleys  that  of  Hockhocking 
was  pre-eminent  for  nature's  richest  gifts — and  the 
portion  of  it  whereon  Lancaster  now  stands,  was  marked 
as  the  most  luxuriant  and  picturesque,  and  became  the 
seat  of  an  Indian  village,  at  a  period  so  early,  that  the 
"  memory  of  man  runneth  not  parallel  thereto."  On 
the  green  sward  of  the  prairie  was  held  many  a  rude 
268 


MISS  WASHBURN  269 

gambol  of  the  Indians ;  and  here  too,  was  many  an 
assemblage  of  the  warriors  of  one  of  the  most  powerful 
tribes,  taking  counsel  for  a  "  war  path"  upon  some 
weak  or  defenceless  frontier  post.  Upon  one  of  these 
war-stirring  occasions,  intelligence  reached  the  little 
garrison  above  the  mouth  of  the  Hockhockmg,  that  the 
Indians  were  gathering  in  force  somewhere  up  the 
valley,  for  the  purpose  of  striking  a  terrible  and  fatal 
blow  on  one  of  the  few  and  scattered  defences  of  the 
whites.  A  council  was  held  by  the  garrison,  and  scouts 
were  sent  up  the  Hockhocking,  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  strength  of  the  foe,  and  the  probable  point  of  at 
tack.  In  the  month  of  October,  and  on  one  of  the 
balmiest  days  of  our  Indian  summer,  two  men  could 
have  been  seen  emerging  out  of  the  thick  plumb  and 
hazel  bushes  skirting  the  prairie,  and  stealthily  climbing 
the  eastern  declivity  of  that  most  remarkable  promon 
tory,  now  known  as  Mount  Pleasant,  whose  western 
summit  gives  a  commanding  view  to  the  eye  of  what  ia 
doing  on  the  prairie.  This  eminence  was  gained  by  our 
two  adventurous  and  hardy  scouts,  and  from  this  point 
they  carefully  observed  the  movements  taking  place 
on  the  prairie.  Every  day  brought  an  accession  of 
warriors  to  those  already  assembled,  and  every  day  the 
scouts  witnessed  from  their  eyrie,  the  horse-racing, 
leaping,  running  and  throwing  the  deadly  tomahawk 
by  the  warriors.  The  old  sachems  looking  on  with 
indifference — the  squaws,  for  the  most  part,  engaged 
in  their  usual  drudgeries,  and  the  papooses  manifesting 


270  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

all  the  noisy  and  wayward  joy  of  childhood.  The  ar 
rival  of  any  new  party  of  warriors  was  hailed  by  the 
terrible  war-whoop,  which  striking  the  mural  face  of 
Mount  Pleasant,  was  driven  back  into  the  various  in 
dentations  of  the  surrounding  hills,  producing  rever 
beration  on  reverberation,  and  echo  on  echo,  till  it 
seemed  as  if  ten  thousand  fiends  were  gathered  in  their 
orgies.  Such  yells  might  well  strike  terror  into  the 
bosoms  of  those  unaccustomed  to  them.  To  our  scouts 
these  were  but  martial  music  strains  which  waked  their 
watchfulness,  and  strung  their  iron  frames.  From 
their  early  youth  had  they  been  always  on  the  frontier, 
and  therefore  well  practised  in  all  the  subtlety,  craft 
and  cunning,  as  well  as  knowing  the  ferocity  and  blood 
thirsty  perseverance  of  the  savage.  They  were  there 
fore  not  likely  to  be  circumvented  by  the  cunning  of 
their  foes ;  and  without  a  desperate  struggle,  would 
not  fall  victims  to  the  scalping-knife. 

On  several  occasions,  small  parties  of  warriors  left 
the  prairies  and  ascended  the  Mount ;  at  which  times 
the  scouts  would  hide  in  the  fissures  of  the  rocks,  or 
lying  by  the  side  of  some  long,  prostrate  tree,  cover 
themselves  with  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf,  and  again 
leave  their  hiding-places  when  their  uninvited  visitors 
had  disappeared.  For  food  they  depended  on  jerked 
venison,  and  cold  corn  bread,  with  which  their  knap 
sacks  had  been  well  stored.  Fire  they  dared  not  kindle, 
and  the  report  of  one  of  their  rifles  would  bring  upon 
them  the  entire  force  of  the  Indians.  For  drink  they 


MISS  WASHBURN.  271 

depended  on  some  rain  water,  which  still  stood  in  ex- 
eavations  of  the  rocks,  but  in  a  few  days  this  stock 
was  exhausted,  and  M'Clelland  and  White  must  aban 
don  their  enterprise,  or  find  a  new  supply.  To  ac 
complish  this  hazardous  affair,  M'Clelland  being  the 
elder,  resolved  to  make  the  attempt — with  his  trusty 
rifle  in  his  grasp,  and  two  canteens  strung  across  his 
shoulders,  he  cautiously  descended  to  the  prairie,  and 
skirting  the  hills  on  the  north  as  much  as  possible 
within  the  hazle  thickets,  he  struck  a  course  for  the 
Hockhocking  river.  JHe  reached  its  margin,  and  turn 
ing  an  abrupt  point  of  a  hill,  he  found  a  beautiful 
fountain  of  limpid  water,  now  known  as  the  Cold 
Spring,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  river.  He  filled  his 
canteens  and  returned  in  safety  to  his  watchful  com 
panion.  It  was  now  determined  to  have  a  fresh  supply 
of  water  every  day,  and  this  duty  was  to  be  performed 
alternately. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  after  White  had  filled 
his  canteens,  he  sat  a  few  moments  watching  the  limpid 
element,  as  it  came  gurgling  out  of  the  bosom  of  the 
earth — the  light  sound  of  footsteps  caught  his  prac 
tised  ear,  and,  upon  turning  round,  he  saw  two  squaws 
within  a  few  feet  of  him ;  these  upon  turning  the  jet 
of  the  hill  had  thus  suddenly  come  upon  him.  The 
elder  squaw  gave  one  of  those  far-reaching  whoops 
peculiar  to  the  Indians.  White  at  once  comprehended 
his  perilous  situation — for  if  the  alarm  should  reach 
tne  camp,  he  and  his  companion  must  inevitably  perish 


272  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

Self-preservation  impelled  him  to  inflict  a  noiselea*, 
death  upon  the  squaws,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
leave  no  trace  behind.  Ever  rapid  in  thought,  and 
prompt  in  action,  he  sprang  upon  his  victims  with  the 
rapidity  and  power  of  a  panther,  and  grasping  the 
throat  of  each,  with  one  bound  he  sprang  into  the 
Hockhocking,  and  rapidly  thrust  the  head  of  the  elder 
squaw  under  the  water,  and  making  strong  efforts  to 
submerge  the  younger,  who,  however,  powerfully  re 
sisted.  During  the  short  struggle,  the  younger  female 
addressed  him  in  his  own  language,  though  almost  in 
inarticulate  sounds.  Releasing  his  hold,  she  informed 
him,  that  ten  years  before,  she  had  been  made  a  pri 
soner  on  Grave  Creek  flats,  and  that  the  Indians,  in 
her  presence,  butchered  her  mother  and  two  sisters, 
and  that  an  only  remaining  brother,  had  been  captured 
with  her,  who  succeeded  on  the  second  night  in  making 
his  escape ;  but  what  had  become  of  him  she  knew  not. 
During  the  narrative,  White,  unobserved  by  the  girl, 
had  let  go  his  grasp  on  the  elder  squaw,  whose  body 
floated  where  it  would  not,  probably,  soon  be  found. 
He  now  directed  the  girl  hastily  to  follow  him,  and 
with  his  usual  energy  and  speed,  pushed  for  the  Mount. 
They  had  scarcely  gone  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
spring,  before  the  alarm  cry  was  heard  some  quarter 
of  a  mile  down  the  stream.  It  was  supposed  that  some 
warriors  returning  from  a  hunt,  struck  the  Hock  hock 
ing  just  as  the  body  of  the  drowned  squaw  floated  past. 
White  and  the  girl  succeeded  in  reaching  the  Mount, 


MISS  WASHBURN.  273 

where  Mr.  McClelland  had  been  no  indifferent  spec 
tator  to  the  sudden  commotion  among  the  Indians,  aa 
the  practising  parties  of  warriors  were  seen  to  strike  off 
in  every  direction,  and  before  White  and  the  girl  had 
arrived,  a  party  of  some  twenty  warriors  had  already 
gained  the  eastern  acclivity  of  the  Mount,  ar^  were 
cautiously  ascending,  carefully  keeping  under  cover. 
Soon  the  two  scouts  saw  the  swarthy  faces  of  the  foe, 
as  they  glided  from  tree  to  tree,  and  rock  to  rock, 
until  the  whole  of  the  rock  was  surrounded,  and  all 
hope  of  escape  cut  off. 

In  this  peril  nothing  was  left,  other  than  to  sell  their 
lives  as  dearly  as  they  could ;  this  they  resolved  to  do, 
and  advised  the  girl  to  escape  to  the  Indians,  and  tell 
them  she  had  been  a  captive  to  the  scouts.  She  said, 
"no !  death,  and  that  in  presence  of  my  people,  is  to  me 
a  thousand  times  sweeter  than  captivity — furnish  me 
with  a  rifle,  and  I  will  show  you  that  I  can  fight  as  well 
as  die.  This  spot  I  leave  not !  here  my  bones  shall 
lie  bleaching  with  yours  !  and  should  either  of  you  es 
cape,  you  will  carry  the  tidings  of  my  death  to  my  re 
maining  relatives."  Remonstrance  proved  fruitless  ; 
the  two  scouts  matured  their  plans  for  a  vigorous  de 
fence — opposing  craft  to  craft,  expedient  to  expedient, 
and  an  unerring  fire  of  the  deadly  rifle.  The  attack 
now  commenced,  in  front,  where,  from  the  narrow 
back  bone  of  the  Mount,  the  savages  had  to  advance 
in  single  file,  but  where  they  could  avail  themselves  of 
the  rock  and  trees.  In  advancing  the  warrioi  must 
18 


274  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

be  momentarily  exposed,  and  two  bare  inches  of  his 
swarthy  form  was  target  enough  for  the  unerring  rifle 
of  the  scouts.  After  bravely  maintaining  the  fight  in 
front,  and  keeping  the  enemy  in  check,  they  discovered 
a  new  danger  threatening  them.  The  wary  foe  now 
made  every  preparation  to  attack  them  in  flank,  which 
could  be  most  successively  and  fatally  done  by  reach 
ing  an  insulated  rock  lying  in  one  of  the  ravines  on 
the  southern  hill  side.  This  rock  once  gained  by  the 
Indians,  they  could  bring  the  scouts  under  point  blank 
shot  of  the  rifle  ;  and  without  the  possibility  of  escape. 
Our  brave  scouts  saw  the  hopelessness  of  their  situ 
ation,  which  nothing  could  avert  but  brave  companions 
and  an  unerring  shot — them  they  had  not.  But  the 
brave  never  despair.  With  this  certain  fate  resting 
upon  them,  they  had  continued  as  calm,  and  as  calcu 
lating,  and  as  unwearied  as  the  strongest  desire  of 
vengeance  on  a  treacherous  foe  could  produce.  Soon 
M'Clelland  saw  a  tall  and  swarthy  figure  preparing 
to  spring  from  a  cover  so  near  the  fatal  rock,  that  a 
single  bound  must  reach  it,  and  all  hope  be  destroyed. 
He  felt  that  all  depended  on  one  advantageous  shot, 
although  but  one  inch  of  the  warrior's  body  was  ex 
posed,  and  that  at  a  distance  of  one  hundred  yards — 
he  resolved  to  risk  all — coolly  he  raised  his  rifle  to 
his  eye,  carefully  shading  the  sight  with  his  hand,  he 
drew  a  bead  so  sure,  that  he  felt  conscious  it  would 
do — he  touched  the  hair  trigger  with  his  finger — the 
bammer  came  down,  but  in  place  of  striking  fire,  i* 


MISS  WASHBURN.  275 

crushed  his  flint  into  a  hundred  fragments '  Although 
he  felt  that  the  savage  must  reach  the  fatal  rock  be 
fore  he  could  adjust  another  flint,  he  proceeded  to  the 
task  with  the  utmost  composure,  casting  many  a  fur 
tive  giancc  towards  the  fearful  point.  Suddenly  he 
saw  the  warrior  stretching  every  muscle  for  the  leap — 
and  with  the  agility  of  a  deer  he  made  the  spring — 
instead  of  reaching  the  rock  he  sprung  ten  feet  in  the 
air,  and  giving  one  terrific  yell  he  fell  upon  the  earth 
and  his  dark  corpse  rolled  fifty  feet  down  the  hill.  He 
had  evidently  received  a  death  shot  from  some  unknown 
hand.  A  hundred  voices  from  below  re-echoed  the 
terrible  shout,  and  it  was  evident  that  they  had  lost  a 
favorite  warrior,  as  well  as  been  foiled  for  a  time  in 
their  most  important  movement.  A  very  few  moments 
proved  that  the  advantage  so  mysteriously  gained  would 
be  of  short  duration ;  for  already  the  scouts  caught  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  a  swarthy  warrior,  cautiously 
advancing  towards  the  cover  so  recently  occupied  by 
a  fellow  companion.  Now,  too,  the  attack  in  front  was 
resumed  with  increased  fury,  so  as  to  require  the  in 
cessant  fire  of  both  scouts,  to  prevent  the  Indians  from 
gaining  the  eminence — and  in  a  short  time  M'Clelland 
saw  the  wary  warrior  turning  a  somerset,  his  corpse 
rolled  down  towards  his  companion :  again  a  myste 
rious  agent  had  interposed  in  their  behalf.  This  second 
sacrifice  cast  dismay  into  the  ranks  of  the  assailants 
and  just  as  the  sun  was  disappearing  behind  the  western 
hills,  the  foe  withdrew  a  short  distance,  for  the  pur- 


276  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

pose  of  devising  new  modes  of  attack.  The  respite 
came  most  seasonably  to  the  scouts,  who  had  bravely 
kept  their  position,  and  boldly  maintained  the  unequal 
fight  from  the  middle  of  the  day. 

Now,  for  the  first  time  was  the  girl  missing,  and  the 
scouts  supposed  that  through  terror  she  had  escaped 
to  her  former  captors,  or  that  she  had  been  killed 
during  the  fight.  They  were  not  .long  left  to  doubt, 
for  in  a  few  moments  the  girl  was  seen  emerging  from 
the  rock  and  coming  to  them  with  a  rifle  in  her  hand. 
During  the  heat  of  the  fight  she  saw  a  warrior  fall, 
who  had  advanced  some  fifty  yards  before  the  main 
body  in  front.  She  at  once  resolved  to  possess  her 
self  of  his  rifle,  and  crouching  in  undergrowth  she 
crept  to  the  spot,  and  succeeded  in  her  enterprise,  be 
ing  all  the  time  exposed  to  the  cross  fire  of  the  de 
fenders  and  assailants — her  practised  eye  had  early 
noticed  the  fatal  rock,  and  hers  was  the  mysterious 
hand  by  which  the  two  warriors  had  fallen — the  last 
being  the  most  wary,  untiring  and  blood  thirsty  brave 
of  the  Shawanese  tribe.  He  it  was,  who  ten  years 
before  had  scalped  the  family  of  the  girl,  and  had 
been  her  captor.  In  the  west  dark  clouds  were  gather 
ing,  and  in  an  hour  the  whole  heavens  were  shrouded 
in  them ;  this  darkness  greatly  embarassed  the  scouts  in 
their  contemplated  night  retreat,  for  they  might 
readily  lose  their  way,  or  accidentally  fall  on  the 
enemy — this  being  highly  probable,  if  not  inevitable. 
An  hour's  consultation  decided  their  plans,  and  it 


MISS   WASHBURN.  277 

was  agreed  that  the  girl,  from  her  intimate  knowledge 
of  their  localities,  should  lead  the  advance  a  few  steps. 
Another  advantage  might  be  gained  by  this  arrange 
ment,  for  in  case  they  should  fall  in  with  some  out-post, 
the  girl's  knowledge  of  the  Indian  tongue,  would  per 
haps  enable  her  to  deceive  the  sentinel :  and  so  the 
sequel  proved,  for  scarcely  had  they  descended  one 
hundred  feet,  when  a  low  "  whist"  from  the  girl, 
warned  them  of  present  danger.  The  scouts  sunk 
silently  to  the  earth,  where  by  previous  agreement,  they 
were  to  remain  till  another  signal  was  given  them  by 
the  girl, — whose  absence  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  now  began  to  excite  the  most  serious  apprehen 
sions.  At  length  she  again  appeared,  and  told  them 
that  she  had  succeeded  in  removing  two  sentinels  who 
were  directly  in  their  route  to  a  point  some  hundred 
feet  distant.  The  descent  was  noiselessly  resumed — 
the  level  gained,  and  the  scouts  followed  their  intrepid 
pioneer  for  half  a  mile  in  the  most  profound  silence, 
when  the  barking  of  a  small  dog,  within  a  few  feet, 
apprised  them  of  a  new  danger.  The  almost  simulta 
neous  click  of  the  scouts'  rifles  was  heard  by  the  girl, 
who  rapidly  approached  them,  and  stated  that  they 
were  now  in  the  midst  of  the  Indian  wigwams,  and 
their  lives  depended  on  the  most  profound  silence,  and 
implicitly  following  her  footsteps.  A  momc  nt  after 
wards,  the  girl  was  accosted  by  a  squaw  from  an  opei>- 
ing  in  a  wigwam.  She  replied  in  the  Indian  language, 
and  without  stopping  pressed  forward.  In  a  shor4 


278  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

time  she  stopped  and  assured  the  scouts  that  the  vil 
lage  was  cleared,  and  that  they  were  now  in  safety. 

She  knew  that  every  pass  leading  out  of  the  prairie 
was  safely  guarded  by  Indians,  and  at  once  resolved 
to  adopt  the  bold  adventure  of  passing  through  the 
very  centre  of  their  village  as  the  least  hazardous. 
The  result  proved  the  correctness  of  her  judgment. 
They  now  kept  a  course  for  the  Ohio,  being  guided 
by  the  Hockhocking  river — and  after  three  days  march 
and  suffering,  the  party  arrived  at  the  block-house  in 
safety. 

The  courage,  energy,  and  fortitude  of  the  girl  were 
nobly  displayed  throughout  the  perilous  scenes  of  the 
fight  and  escape.  She  proved  to  be  a  sister  of  Neil 
Washburn,  one  of  the  most  renowned  scouts  upon  the 
frontier.  She  possessed  her  brother's  spirit  in  the 
delicate  frame  of  a  woman. 

The  escape  of  the  party  from  the  Indians  deranged 
the  plan  of  attack  upon  the  fort,  and  compelled  the 
savages  to  return  to  their  homes  without  having  effected 
any  thing  of  importance. 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE. 

THE  following  story  appeared  in  "  Chamber's  Edin 
burgh  Journal,"  in  June,  1851.  We  are  ignorant  of 
its  original  source. 

Tom  Cooper  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  North 
American  trapper.  Slightly  but  powerfully  made, 
with  a  hardy,  weather-beaten,  yet  handsome  face, 
strong,  indefatigable,  and  a  crack  shot,  he  was  admi 
rably  adapted  for  a  hunter's  life.  For  manj"  years 
he  knew  not  what  it  was  to  have  a  home,  but  lived 
like  the  beasts  he  hunted— wandering  from  one  part 
of  the  country  to  the  other  in  pursuit  of  game.  All 
who  knew  Tom  were  much  surprised  when  he  came, 
with  a  pretty  young  wife,  to  settle  within  three  miles 
of  a  planter's  farm.  Many  pitied  the  poor  young  crea 
ture,  who  would  have  to  lead  such  a  solitary  life ; 
whilst  others  said  ;  "  If  she  was  fool  enough  to  marry 
him  it  was  her  own  look-out."  For  nearly  four  months 
Tom  remained  at  home,  and  employed  his  time  in 
making  the  old  hut  he  had  fixed  on  for  their  residence 

(279) 


280  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

more  couffortable.  He  cleared  and  tilled  a  small  spot 
of  land  around  it,  and  Susan  began  to  hope  that  for 
her  sake  he  would  settle  down  quietly  as  a  squatter. 
But  these  visions  of  happiness  were  soon  dispelled,  for 
as  soon  as  this  work  was  finished  he  recommenced  his 
old  erratic  mode  of  life,  and  was  often  absent  for  week? 
together,  leaving  his  wife  alone,  yet  not  unprotected, 
for  since  his  marriage,  old  Nero,  a  favorite  hound, 
was  always  left  at  home  as  her  guardian.  He  was  a 
noble  dog — a  cross  between  the  old  Scottish  deer 
hound  and  the  bloodhound — and  would  hunt  an  In 
dian  as  well  as  a  deer  or  bear,  which  Tom  said,  "  was 
a  proof  they  Ingins  was  a  sort  o'  varmint,  or  why 
should  the  brute  beast  take  to  hunt  'em,  nat'ral  like— 
him  that  took  no  notice  of  white  men  ?" 

One  clear,  cold  morning,  about  two  years  after  their 
marriage,  Susan  was  awakened  by  a  loud  crash,  im 
mediately  succeeded  by  Nero's  deep  baying.  She 
recollected  that  she  had  shut  him  in  the  house  as  usual 
the  night  before.  Supposing  he  had  winded  some 
solitary  wolf  or  bear  prowling  around  the  hut,  and 
effected  his  escape,  she  took  little  notice  of  the  cir 
cumstance  ;  but  a  few  moments  after  came  a  shrill, 
wild  cry,  which  made  her  blood  run  cold.  To  spring 
from  her  bed,  throw  on  her  clothes,  and  rush  from  the 
hut,  was  the  work  of  a  minute.  She  no  longer  doubted 
what  the  hound  was.  in  pursuit  of.  Fearful  thoughts 
shot  through  her  brain ;  she  called  wildly  on  Nero, 
and  to  her  joy  he  came  dashing  through  the  thick  un 


HE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  281 

derwood.  As  the  dog  drew  near  she  saw  that  he  gal- 
lopped  heavily,  and  carried  in  his  mouth  some  large 
dark  creature.  Her  brain  reeled  ;  she  felt  a  cold  and 
sickly  shudder  dart  through  her  limhs.  But  Susan 
was  a  hunter's  daughter,  and  all  her  life  had  been 
accustomed  to  witness  scenes  of  danger  and  of  horror, 
and  in  this  school  had  learned  to  subdue  the  natural 
timidity  of  her  character.  With  a  powerful  effort  she 
recovered  herself,  just  as  Nero  dropped  at  her  feet 
a  little  Indian  child,  apparently  between  three  and 
four  years  old.  She  bent  down  over  him,  but  there 
was  no  sound  or  motion ;  she  placed  he**  hand  on  his 
little  naked  chest ;  the  heart  within  had  ceased  to  beat, 
— he  was  dead  !  The  deep  marks  of  the  dog's  fangs 
were  visible  on  the  neck,  but  the  body  was  untorn. 
Old  Nero  stood  with  his  large  bright  eyes  fixed  on  the 
face  of  his  mistress,  fawning  on  her,  as  if  he  expected 
to  be  praised  for  what  he  had  done,  and  seemed  to 
wonder  why  she  looked  so  terrified.  But  Susan 
spurned  him  from  her ;  and  the  fierce  animal,  who 
would  have  pulled  down  an  Indian  as  he  would  a  deer, 
crouched  humbly  at  the  young  woman's  feet.  Susan 
carried  the  little  body  gently  to  the  hut,  and  laid  it 
on  her  own  bed.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  seize  a 
loaded  rifle  that  hung  over  the  fireplace,  and  shoot  the 
hound ;  and  yet  she  felt  she  could  not  do  it,  for  in 
the  lone  life  she  led,  the  faithful  animal  seemed  like  a 
dear  arid  valued  friend,  who  loved  and  watched  over 
her,  as  if  aware  of  the  precious  charge  entrusted  to 


282  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

him.  She  thought  also  of  what  her  husband  would 
say,  when  on  his  return  he  should  find  his  old  com 
panion  dead.  Susan  had  never  seen  Tom  roused.  To 
her  he  had  ever  shown  nothing  but  kindness  ;  yet  she 
feared  as  well  as  loved  him,  for  there  was  a  fire  in 
.those  dark  eyes  which  told  of  deep,  wild  passions  hid 
den  in  his  breast,  and  she  knew  that  the  lives  of  a 
whole  tribe  of  Indians  would  be  light  in  the  balance 
against  that  of  his  favorite  hound. 

Having  securely  fastened  up  Nero,  Susan,  with  a 
heavy  heart,  proceeded  to  examine  the  ground  around 
the  hut.  In  several  places  she  observed  the  impression 
of  a  small  moccasoned  foot,  but  not  a  child's.  The 
tracks  were  deeply  marked,  unlike  the  usual  light, 
elastic  tread  of  an  Indian.  From  this  circumstance, 
Susan  easily  inferred  that  the  woman  had  been  carry 
ing  her  child  when  attacked  by  the  dog.  There  was 
nothing  to  show  why  she  had  come  so  near  the  hut ; 
most  probably  the  hopes  of  some  petty  plunder  had 
been  the  inducement.  Susan  did  not  dare  to  wander 
far  from  home,  fearing  a  band  of  Indians  might  be  in 
the  neighborhood.  She  returned  sorrowfully  to  the 
hut,  and  employed  herself  in  blocking  up  the  window, 
or  rather  the  hole  where  the  window  had  been,  for 
the  powerful  hound  had  in  his  leap  dashed  out  the 
entire  frame,  and  shattered  it  to  pieces.  When  this  was 
finished,  Susan  dug  a  grave,  and  in  it  laid  the  little 
Indian  boy.  She  made  it  close  to  the  hut,  for  she 
could  not  bear  that  wolves  should  devour  those  deli- 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  283 

cate  limbs,  and  she  knew  there  it  would  be  safe.  The 
next  day  Tom  returned.  He  had  been  very  unsuc 
cessful,  and  intended  setting  out  again  JP  a  few  days 
in  a  different  direction. 

"  Susan,"  he  said,  when  he  had  heard  her  sad  story, 
"  I  wish  you'd  lef  the  child  where  the  dog  killed  him. 
The  squaw's  high  sartan  to  come  back  a-seekin'  for 
the  body,  a^d  'tis  a  pity  the  poor  crittur  should  be 
disapinted.  Besides,  the  Ingins  will  be  high  sartan 
to  put  it  down  to  us ;  whereas  if  so  be  as  they'd  found 
the  body,  'pon  the  spot,  maybe  they'd  onderstand 
as  'twas  an  accident  like,  for  they're  unkimmon 
cunning  warmints,  though  they  a'nt  got  sense  like 
Christians." 

"  Why  do  you  think  the  poor  woman  came  here  ?" 
said  Susan.  "  I  never  knew  an  Indian  squaw  so  near 
the  hut  before." 

She  fancied  a  dark  shadow  flitted  across  her  hus 
band's  brow.  He  made  no  reply  ;  and  on  her  repeat 
ing  the  question,  said  angrily — how  should  he  know  ? 
'Twas  as  well  to  ask  for  a  bear's  reasons  as  an  Ingin's. 

Tom  only  stayed  at  home  long  enough  to  mend  the 
broken  window,  and  plant  a  small  spot  of  Indian  corn, 
and  then  again  set  out,  telling  Susan  not  'to  expect 
him  home  in  less  than  a  month.  "  If  that  squaw  comes 
this  way  agin,"  he  said,  "  as  maybe  she  will,  jist  put 
any  broken  victuals  you've  a-got,  for  the  poor  crittur ; 
though  maybe  she  wont  come,  for  they  Ingins  be  on 
kimmon  skeary."  Susan  wondered  at  his  taking  au 


284  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

interest  in  the  woman,  and  often  thought  of  that  dark 
look  she  had  noticed,  and  Tom's  unwillingness  to  speak 
on  the  subject.  She  never  knew  that  on  his  last  hunting 
expedition,  when  hiding  some  skins  which  he  intended 
to  fetch  on  his  return,  he  had  observed  an  Indian 
watching  him,  and  had  shot  him  with  as  little  mercy 
as  he  would  have  shown  a  wolf.  On  Tom's  return  to 
the  spot,  the  body  was  gone ;  and  in  the  soft  damp 
soil  was  the  mark  of  an  Indian  squaw's  foot,  and  by 
its  side  a  little  child's.  He  was  sorry  then  for  the 
deed  he  had  done ;  he  thought  of  the  grief  of  the  poor 
widow,  and  how  it  would  be  possible  for  her  to  live 
until  she  could  reach  her  tribe,  who  were  far,  far  dis 
tant,  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  and  now  to 
feel  that  through  his  means,  too,  she  had  lost  her  child, 
put  thoughts  into  his  mind  that  had  never  before  found 
a  place  there.  He  thought  that  one  God  had  formed 
the  Red  Man  as  well  as  the  White — of  the  souls  of 
the  many  Indians  hurried  into  eternity  by  his  uneriing 
rifle ;  and  they  perhaps  were  more  fitted  for  their 
"  happy  hunting-grounds"  than  he  was  for  the  white 
man's  heaven.  In  this  state  of  mind,  every  word  his 
wife  had  said  to  him  seemed  to  him  a  reproach,  and 
he  was  glad  again  to  be  alone  in  the  forest  with  his 
rifle  and  his  hounds. 

The  afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  Tom's  depar 
ture,  as  Susan  was  sitting  at  work,  she  heard  some 
thing  scratching  and  whining  at  the  door.  Nero,  who 
was  by  her  side,  evinced  no  sign  of  anger,  but  ran  to 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  285 

the  door,  showing  his  white  teeth,  as  was  his  custom 
when  pleased.  Susan  unbarred  it,  when  to  her  asto 
nishment,  the  two  deerhounds  her  husband  had  taken 
with  him  walked  into  the  hut,  looking  weary  and  soiled. 
At  first  she  thought  Tom  might  have  killed  a  deer  not 
far  from  home,  and  had  brought  her  a  fresn  supply  of 
venison  ;  but  no  one  was  there.  Sfce  rushed  from  the 
hut,  and  soon,  breathless  and  terrified,  reached  the 
squatter's  cabin.  John  Wilton  and  his  three  sons 
were  just  returned  from  the  clearings,  when  Susan 
ran  into  their  comfortable  kitchen ;  her  long  black 
hair  streaming  on  her  shoulders,  and  her  wild  arid 
bloodshot  eyes,  gave  her  the  appearance  of  a  maniac. 
In  a  few  unconnected  words,  she  explained  to  them 
the  cause  of  her  terror,  and  implored  them  to  set  off 
immediately  in  search  of  her  husband.  It  was  in  vain 
they  told  her  of  the  uselessness  of  going  at  that  time — 
of  the  impossibility  of  following  a  trail  in  the  dark. 
She  said  she  would  go  herself;  she  felt  sure  of  finding 
him ;  and  at  last  they  were  obliged  to  use  force  to 
prevent  her  leaving  the  house. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak,  Wilton  and  his  two 
sons  were  mounted,  and  ready  to  set  out,  intending 
to  take  Nero  with  them  ;  but  nothing  could  induce  him 
to  leave  his  mistress ;  he  resisted  passively  for  some 
time,  until  one  of  the  young  men  attempted  to  pass  a 
rope  round  his  neck,  to  drag  him  away :  then  his  for 
bearance  vanished  ;  he  sprung  on  his  tormentor,  threw 
him  f1  wn,  and  would  have  strangled  him,  if  Susan 


280  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

had  not  been  present.  Finding  it  impossible  to  make 
Nero  accompany  them,  they  left  without  him,  but  had 
not  proceeded  many  miles  before  he  and  his  mistress 
were  at  their  side.  They  begged  Susan  to  return, 
told  her  of  the  hardships  she  must  endure,  and  of  the 
inconvenienoe  she  would  be  to  them.  It  was  of  no 
avail ;  she  had  but  one  answer :  "I  am  a  hunter'a 
wife,  and  a  hunter's  daughter."  She  told  them  that 
knowing  how  useful  Nero  would  be  to  them  in  their 
search,  she  had  secretly  taken  a  horse  and  followed 
them. 

The  party  first  rode  to  Tom  Cooper's  hut,  and  there 
having  dismounted,  leading  their  horses  through  the 
forest,  followed  the  trail,  as  only  men  long  accustomed 
to  a  savage  life  can  do.  At  night  they  lay  on  the 
ground,  covered  with  their  thick  bear-skin  cloaks ; 
for  Susan  only  they  heaped  up  a  bed  of  dry  leaves ; 
but  she  refused  to  occupy  it,  saying  it  was  her  duty 
to  bear  the  same  hardships  they  did.  Ever  since  their 
departure  she  had  shown  no  sign  of  sorrow.  Although 
slight  and  delicately  formed,  she  never  appeared  fa 
tigued  ;  her  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  one  longing 
desire — to  find  her  husband's  body ;  for  from  the  first 
she  had  abandoned  the  hope  of  ever  again  seeing  him 
in  life.  This  desire  supported  her  through  every  thing. 
Early  the  next  morning  they  were  again  on  the  trail. 
About  noon,  as  they  were  crossing  a  small  brook,  the 
hound  suddenly  dashed  away  from,  and  was  lost  in 
the  thicket.  At  first  they  fancied  they  might  have 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  287 

crossed  the  track  of  a  deer  or  wolf;  but  a  long  mourn 
ful  howl  soon  told  the  sad  truth,  for  not  far  from  the 
brook  lay  the  faithful  dog  on  the  body  of  his  master, 
which  was  pierced  to  the  heart  by  an  Indian  arrow. 

The  murderer  had  apparently  been  afraid  to  ap 
proach  on  account  of  the  dogs,  for  the  body  was  left 
as  it  had  fallen — not  even  the  rifle  was  gone.  No 
sign  of  Indians  could  be  discovered  save  one  small 
footprint,  which  was  instantly  pronounced  to  be  that 
of  a  squaw.  Susan  showed  no  grief  at  the  sight  of 
the  body ;  she  maintained  the  same  forced  calmness, 
and  seemed  comforted  that  it  was  found.  Old  Wilton 
stayed  with  her  to  remove  all  that  now  remained  of 
her  darling  husband,  and  his  two  sons  again  set  out 
on  the  trail,  which  soon  led  them  into  the  open  prairie, 
where  it  was  easily  traced  through  the  tall  thick  grass. 
They  continued  riding  that  afternoon,  and  the  next 
morning  were  again  on  the  track,  which  they  followed 
to  the  banks  of  a  wide  but  shallow  stream.  There  they 
saw  the  remains  of  a  fire.  One  of  them  thrust  his  hand 
in  the  ashes,  which  were  still  warm.  They  crossed  the 
river,  and  in  the  soft  sand  on  the  opposite  bank  saw 
again  the  print  of  a  small  moccasoned  footsteps.  Here 
they  were  at  a  loss  ;  for  the  rank  prairie  grass  had 
been  consumed  by  one  of  those  fearful  fires  so  common 
in  the  prairies,  and  in  its  stead  grew  short  sweet 
herbage,  where  even  an  Indian's  eye  could  observe  no 
trace.  They  were  on  the  point  of  abandoning  the 
pursuit,  when  Richard,  the  younger  of  the  two,  called 


288  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

his  brother's  attention  to  Nero,  who  had  of  his  own 
accord  left  his  mistress  to  accompany  them,  as  if  he 
now  understood  what  they  were  about.  The  hound 
was  trotting  to  and  fro,  with  his  nose  to  the  ground, 
as  if  endeavoring  to  pick  out  a  cold  scent.  Edward 
laughed  at  his  brother,  and  pointed  to  the  track  of  a 
deer  that  had  come  to  drink  at  the  river.  At  last  he 
agreed  to  follow  Nero,  who  was  now  cantering  slowly 
across  the  prairie.  The  pace  gradually  increased, 
until,  on  a  spot  where  the  grass  had  grown  more  luxu 
riantly  than  elsewhere,  Nero  threw  up  his  nose,  gave 
a  deep  bay,  and  started  off  at  a  furious  pace,  that 
although  well  mounted,  they  had  great  difficulty  in 
keeping  up  with  him. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  dog  brought  them  to  the 
borders  of  another  forest,  where,  finding  it  impossible 
to  *ake  their  horses  farther,  they  fastened  them  to  a 
tree,  and  set  off  again  on  foot.  They  lost  sight  of  the 
hound,  but  still  from  time  to  time  they  heard  his  loud 
baying  far  away.  At  last  they  fancied  it  sounded 
nearer  instead  of  becoming  less  and  distinct ;  and 
of  this  they  were  soon  convinced.  They  still  went  on 
in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  until 
they  saw  Nero  sitting  with  his  forepaws  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  no  longer  mouthing  like  a  well-trained 
hound,  but  yelling  like  a  fury^  They  looked  up  in  a 
tree,  but  could  see  nothing ;  until  at  last  Edward 
espied  a  large  hollow  about  half  way  up  the  trunk. 
"  I  was  right,  you  see,"  he  said.  "  After  all  it  is  only 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  28S 

a  bear ;  but  we  may  as  well  shoot  the  brute  that  has 
given  us  so  much  trouble." 

They  set  to  work  immediately  with  their  axes  to 
fell  the  tree.  It  began  to  totter,  when  a  dark  object, 
they  could  not  tell  what  in  the  dim  twilight,  crawled 
from  its  place  of  concealment  to  the  extremity  of  a 
branch,  and  from  thence  sprung  into  the  next  tree. 
Snatching  up  their  rifles,  they  both  fired  together ; 
when  to  their  astonishment,  instead  of  a  bear,  a  young 
Indian  squaw,  with  a  loud  yell,  fell  to  the  ground. 
They  ran  to  the  spot  where  she  lay  motionless,  and 
carried  her  to  the  borders  of  the  wood  where  they 
had  that  morning  dismounted.  Richard  lifted  her  on 
his  horse,  and  springing  himself  into  the  saddle,  car 
ried  the  almost  lifeless  body  before  him.  The  poor 
creature  never  spoke.  Several  times  they  stopped, 
thinking  she  was  dead ;  her  pulse  only  told  the  spirit 
had  not  flown  from  its  earthly  tenement.  "Wlien  they 
reached  the  river  which  had  been  crossed  by  them 
before,  they  washed  the  wounds,  and  sprinkled  water 
on  feer  face.  This  appeared  to  revive  her ;  and  when 
Richard  again  lifted  her  in  his  arms  to  place  her  on 
his  horse, 'he  fancied  he  heard  her  utter  in  Iroquois. 
one  word — "  revenged  !" 

It  was  a  strange  sight,  these  two  powerful  men 
tending  so  carefully  the  being  they  had  a  few  hours 
before  sought  to  slay,  and  endeavoring  to  staunch  the 
blood  that  flowed  from  the  wound  they  had  made  ! 
Yet  so  it  was.  It  would  have  appeared  to  them  a 
19 


290  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

sin  to  leave  the  Indian  woman  to  die ;  yet  they  fel 
no  remorse  at  having  inflicted  the  wound,  and  would 
have  been  better  pleased  had  it  been  mortal ;  but  they 
would  not  have  murdered  a  wounded  enemy,  even  an 
Indian  warrior,  still  less  a  squaw.  The  party  con 
tinued  their  journey  until  midnight  when  they  stopped 
to  rest  their  jaded  horses.  Having  wrapped  the  squaw 
in  their  bear-skins,  they  lay  down  themselves  with  no 
covering  save  the  clothes  they  wore.  They  were  in 
no  want  of  provisions,  as  not  knowing  when  they  might 
return,  they  had  taken  a  good  supply  of  bread  and 
dried  venison,  not  wishing  to  lose  any  precious  time 
in  seeking  food  whilst  on  the  trail.  .The  brandy,  still 
remaining  in  their  flasks,  they  preserved  for  the  use 
of  their  captive.  The  evening  of  the  following  day 
they  reached  the  trapper's  hut,  where  they  were  not 
a  little  surprised  to  find  Susan.  She  told  them  that 
although  John  Wilton  had  begged  her  to  live  with 
them,  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  the  spot  where  every 
thing  reminded  her  of  one  to  think  of  whom  was  now 
her  only  consolation,  and  that  whilst  she  had  Nero, 
she  feared  nothing.  They  needed  not  to  tell  their 
mournful  tale — Susan  already  understood  it  but  too 
clearly.  She  begged  them  to  leave  the  Indian  woman 
with  her.  "You  have  no  one,"  she  said,  "to  tend 
and  watch  her  as  I  can  do ;  besides,  it  is  not  right 
that  I  should  lay  such  a  burden  on  you."  Although 
unwilling  to  impose  on  her  the  painful  task  of  nursing 
her  husband's  murderess,  they  could  not  but  allow  sho 


THE  HUNTER  S  WIFE.  291 

was  right ;  and  seeing  how  earnestly  she  desired  it,  at 
last  consented  to  leave  the  Indian  woman  with  her. 

For  many  long  weeks,  Susan  nursed  her  charge  as 
tenderly  as  if  she  had  been  her  sister.  At  first  she 
lay  almost  motionless,  and  rarely  spoke ;  then  she  grew 
delirious,  and  raved  wildly.  Susan,  fortunately,  could 
not  understand  what  she  said,  but  often  turned  shud- 
deringly  away,  when  the  Indian  woman  would  strive 
to  rise  from  her  bed,  and  move  her  arms  as  if  drawing 
a  bow ;  or  yell  wildly,  and  cower  in  terror  beneath 
the  clothes,  reacting  in  her  delirium  the  fearful  scenes 
through  which  she  had  passed.  By  degrees  reason 
returned ;  she  gradually  got  better,  but  seemed  rest 
less  and  unhappy,  and  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  Nero. 
The  first  proof  of  returning  reason  she  had  shown 
was  to  shriek  in  terror  when  he  once  accidentally 
followed  his  mistress  into  the  room  where  she  lay. 
One  morning  Susan  missed  her  ;  she  searched  around 
the  hut,  but  she  was  gone,  without  having  taken  fare 
well  of  her  kind  benefactress. 

A  few  years  after  Susan  Cooper  (no  longer  "  pretty 
Susan,"  for  time  and  grief  had  done  their  work)  heard 
late  one  night  a  hurried  knock,  which  was  repeated 
several  times  before  she  could  unfasten  the  door,  each 
time  more  loudly  than  before.  She  called  to  ask  who 
it  was  at  that  hour  of  the  night.  A  few  hurried  words 
in  Iroquois  were  the. reply,  and  Susan  congratulated 
herself  on  having  spoken  before  unbarring  the  door , 
But  on  listening  again,  she  distinctly  heard  the  same 


292  HEROIC  WOMEN  OP  THE  WEST. 

voice  say,  "  Quick — quick  !"  and  recognised  it  as  the 
Indian  woman's  whom  she  had  nursed.  The  door  wag 
instantly  opened,  when  the  squaw  rushed  into  the  hut, 
seized  Susan  by  the  arm,  and  made  signs  to  her  tc 
come  away.  She  was  too  much  excited  to  remember 
then  the  few  words  of  English  she  had  picked  up  when 
living  with  the  white  woman.  Expressing  her  mean 
ing  by  gestures  wTith  a  clearness  peculiar  to  the  In 
dians,  she  dragged  rather  than  led  Susan  from  the  hut. 
They  had  just  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest  when 
the  wild  yells  of  the  Indians  sounded  in  their  ears. 
Having  gone  with  Susan  a  little  way  into  the  forest 
her  guide  left  her.  For  nearly  four  hours  she  lay  there 
half-dead  with  cold  and  terror,  not  daring  to  move 
from  her  place  of  concealment.  She  saw  the  flames 
of  the  dwelling,  where  so  many  lonely  hours  had  been 
passed,  rising  above  the  trees,  and  heard  'the  shrill 
"  whoops"  of  the  retiring  Indians.  Nero,  who  was 
lying  by  her  side,  suddenly  rose  and  gave  a  loud  growl. 
Silently  a  dark  figure  came  gliding  among  the  trees 
directly  to  the  spot  where  she  lay.  She  gave  her 
self  up  for  lost ;  but  it  was  the  Indian  woman  who 
came  to  her,  and  dropped  at  her  feet  a  bag  of  money, 
the  remains  of  her  late  husband's  savings.  The  grate 
ful  creature  knew  where  it  was  kept ;  and  whilst  the 
Indians  were  busied  examining  the  rifles  and  other 
objects  more  interesting  to  them,  had  carried  it  off  un 
observed.  Waving  her  arm  around  to  show  that  all  was 


THE  HUNTER'S  WIFE.  293 

now  quiet,  she  pointed  in  the   direction   of  Wilton's 
house,  and  was  again  lost  among  the  trees. 

Day  was  just  breaking  when  Susan  reached  the 
squatter's  cabin.  Having  heard  the  sad 'story,  Wilton 
and  two  of  his  sons  started  immediately  for  the  spot. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen  save  a  heap  of  ashes.  The 
party  had  apparently  consisted  of  only  three  or  four 
Indians ;  but  a  powerful  tribe  being  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  they  saw  that  it  would  be  too  hazardous  to 
follow  them.  From  this  time  Susan  lived  with  the 
Wiltons.  She  was  as  a  daughter  to  the  old  man,  and 
a  sister  to  his  sons,  who  often  said :  "  That,  as  far  as 
they  were  concerned,  the  Indians  had  never  done  a 
kindlier  action  than  in  burning  down  Susan  Cooper's 
hut," 


MRS.  JORDAN'S  CAPTIVITY. 

NARRATED  BY  HERSELF. 

"  ON  the  night  of  22d  January,  1807,  we  were  sud 
denly  awakened  from  slumber  by  the  hideous  yells  of 
the  savages,  who,  before  we  could  put  ourselves  in  a 
situation  to  oppose  them,  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
doors  of  the  house.  They  were,  to  the  number  of 
forty  or  fifty,  frightfully  painted,  and  armed  with  to 
mahawks  and  scalping  knives.  My  husband  met  them 
at  the  door,  and  in  their  own  tongue  asked  them  what 
they  wanted — "  The  scalps  of  your  family  !"  was  their 
answer.  My  husband  entreated  them  to  have  compas 
sion  on  me  and  his  innocent  children,  but  his  entrea 
ties  availed  nothing  ;  we  were  dragged  naked  out  of 
the  house,  and  tied  severally  with  cords.  By  order 
of  one,  who  appeared  to  be  a  chief,  about  twenty  of 
the  Indians  took  charge  of  us,  who  were  ordered  to 
conduct  us  with  all  possible  dispatch  to  their  settlement, 
about  two  hundred  miles  distant,  while  the  remainder 
were  left  to  pillage  and  fire  the  house.  We  commenced 
our  journey  about  midnight,  though  an  uncultivated 
(294) 


MRS.  JORDAN'S  CAPTIVITY.  295 

wilderness,  at  the  rate  nearly  seven  miles  an  hour.  If 
either  of  us,  through  fatigue,  slacked  our  pace,  we  were 
most  inhumanly  beaten  and  threatened  with  instant 
death. 

"  After  a  tedious  travel  of  more  than  forty  miles, 
the  savages  halted  in  a  swamp ; — here  for  the  first 
time,  from  the  time  of  our  departure,  we  were  per 
mitted  to  lie  down — the  Indians  kindled  a  fire,  on 
which  they  broiled  some  bear's  flesh,  of  which  they 
allowed  us  but  a  small  portion. 

"  After  they  had  refreshed  themselves  and  extin 
guished  the  fire,  we  were  again  compelled  to  pursue 
our  journey.  We  travelled  until  sunset,  when  the  In 
dians  again  halted  and  began  to  prepare  a  covering 
for  themselves  for  the  night.  My  poor  children  com 
plained  much  of  their  feet  being  swollen,  but  I  was  not 
permitted  to  give  them  any  relief,  nor  was  their  father 
allowed  to  discourse  with  them.  As  night  approached, 
we  shook  each  other  by  the  hand,  expecting  never 
again  to  witness  the  rising  of  the  sun.  Contrary  to 
our  expectations,  however,  we  had  a  tolerable  night's 
rest,  and  on  the  succeeding  day,  though  naked  and 
half  starved,  travelled  with  much  more  ease  than  on  the 
preceding  one.  The  Indians  occasionally  allowed  us  a 
little  raw  food,  sufficient  only  to  keep  us  alive ; — we 
this  day  travelled,  according  to  the  reckoning  of  the 
Indians,  nearly  forty  miles,  and  were,  about  sunset, 
joined  by  the  remaining  savages  who  were  left  behind  j 
f 'iey  were  loaded  with  the  spoils  of  my  husband's  pro- 


296  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

perty ;  among  other  articles  they  had  a  keg  of  spirits 
of  which  they  had  drank  plentifully,  and  as  they  be 
came  intoxicated,  they  exercised  the  more  cruelty  to« 
wards  us — they  beat  my  poor  children  so  unmercifully 
that  they  were  unable  to  stand  upon  their  feet  the 
ensuing  morning — the  Indians  attributed  their  ina 
bility  to  wilfulness,  and  again  renewed  their  acts  of 
barbarity,  beating  them  with  clubs,  cutting  and  gash 
ing  them  with  their  knives  and  scorching  their  naked 
bodies  with  brands  of  fire.  Finding  that  their  hellish 
plans  had  no  other  effect  than  to  render  the  poor  un 
happy  sufferers  less  able  to  travel,  they  came  to  the 
resolution  to  butcher  them  on  the  spot. 

"  Six  holes  were  dug  in  the  earth,  of  about  five  feet 
in  depth,  around  each  of  which  some  dried  branches 
of  trees  were  placed.  My  husband  at  this  moment, 
filled  with  horror  at  what  he  expected  was  about  to 
take  place,  broke  the  rope  with  which  he  was  bound, 
and  attempted  to  escape  from  the  hands  of  the  un 
merciful  cannibals — he  was,  however,  closely  pursued, 
soon  overtaken  and  brought  back — as  he  passed  me, 
he  cast  his  eyes  towards  me  and  fainted — in  this  situa 
tion  he  was  placed  erect  in  one  of  the  holes.  The 
woods  now  resounded  with  the  heart-piercing  cries  of 
my  poor  children — i  spare,  0  spare  my  father,'  was 
their  cry — 'have  mercy  on  my  poor  children!'  was 
the  cry  of  their  father  ;  but  all  availed  nothing — my 
dear  children  were  all  placed  in  a  situation  similar  to 
that  of  their  father — the  youngest  (only  nine  years 


MRS.  JORDAN'S  CAPTIVITY.  297 

old)  broke  from  them  and  ran  up  to  me,  crying,  <  don't 
mamma,  mamma,  don't  let  them  kill  me  !' 

"  Alas,  0  Heavens,  what  could  I  do  ?  In  vain  did 
I  beg  of  them  to  let  me  take  my  dear  child's  place  !— 
by  force  it  was  torn  from  me. 

'  Maving  placed  the  poor  unfortunate  victims  li 
the  manner  above  described,  they  secured  them  in  a 
standing  position  by  replacing  the  earth,  which  buried 
them  nearly  to  their  necks  !  The  inhuman  wretches 
now  began  their  hideous  pow-wows,  dancing  to  and 
fro  around  the  victims  of  their  torture,  which  they 
continued  about  a  half  an  hour,  when  they  communi 
cated  fire  to  the  fatal  piles  !  As  the  flames  increased, 
shrieks  and  dying  groans  of  my  poor  family  were  the 
heightened  ! — thank  heaven  !  their  sufferings  was  of 
short  duration  ; — in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from 
the  time  the  fire  was  first  communicated,  their  cries 
ceased,  and  they  sunk  into  the  arms  of  their  kind 
deliverer. 

"  The  callous-hearted  wretches  having  sufficiently 
feasted  their  eyes  with  the  agonies  of  the  unfortunate 
sufferers,  retired  to  regale  themselves  with  what  liquor 
remained  ;  they  drank  freely,  and  soon  became  stupid 
and  senseless.  With  one  of  their  tomahawks  I  might 
with  ease  have  dispatched  them  all,  but  my  only  de 
sire  was  to  flee  from  them  as  quick  as  possible.  I  suc 
ceeded  with  difficulty  in  liberating  myself  by  cutting 
the  cord  with  which  I  was  bound,  on  which  I  bent  my 
course  for  this  place.  A  piece  of  bear's  flesh,  which 


298  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

I  fortunately  found  in  one  of  the  Indian's  packs,  served 
me  for  food.  I  travelled  only  by  night,  in  the  day 
time  concealing  myself  in  the  thick  swamps  or  hollow 
trees.  A  party  of  Indians  passed  within  a  few  rods 
of  the  place  of  my  concealment  the  second  day  after 
my  departure,  but  did  not  discover  me  ;  they  were 
undoubtedly  of  the  same  party  from  whom  I  had  es 
caped,  in  pursuit  of  me.  Two  days  after,  I  was  met 
by  an  Indian  of  the  Shawanese  without  his  assistance 
I  must  have  again  fallen  into  the  hands  of  my  foes." 


CAPTIVITY  AND  SUFFERINGS  OF 
THE  GILBERT  FAMILY 

BENJAMIN  GILBERT  was  the  owner  and  occupier  of  a 
farm,  situated  on  Mahoning  creek,  in  Penn  Township, 
Northampton  county,  Pennsylvania,  not  far  from  where 
Fort  Allen  was  built.  The  improvements  he  had  made, 
were  such  as  were  of  great  value  in  a  new  settlement. 
They  were,  besides  a  convenient  log-house,  and  log- 
barn,  a  saw-mill  and  commodious  stone  grist-mill. 
But  from  this  scene  of  comfort,  the  backwoodsman, 
with  his  family,  was  destined  to  be  torn  away ;  and 
the  improvements,  erected  at  great  cost,  and  with  much 
difficulty,  upon  the  borders  of  the  wilderness,  were 
scarcely  completed,  when  they  were  doomed  to  the 
flames. 

On  the  25th  day  of  April,  1780,  about  sunrise,  the 
family  were  alarmed  by  a  party  of  Indians,  who  came 
upon  them  so  suddenly,  that  to  have  attempted  to 
escape  would  have  been  useless.  Their  only  chance 
of  saving  their  lives  was  to  surrender.  Without  re- 

(299) 


300  HEROIC  WOMEN  OS1  THE  WEST. 

sistance  they  therefore  gave  themselves  up  to  their 
savage  foes,  hoping,  yet  scarcely  expecting,  to  escape 
from  death  by  being  carried  off  to  endure  the  horrors 
of  an  Indian  captivity. 

The  Indians  who  made  this  incursion  were  of  diffe 
rent  tribes,  who  had  abandoned  their  country  upon  the 
approach  of  General  Sullivan's  army,  and  fled  within 
command  of  the  British  forts  in  Canada,  settling 
promiscuously  within  their  neighborhood,  and,  accord 
ing  to  Indian  custom,  carrying  on  war,  frequently  in 
vading  the  frontier  settlements,  and  taking  captive  the 
surprised  and  defenceless  inhabitants.  The  present 
party  consisted  of  two  half-breeds,  descended  from  a 
Mohawk  and  French  woman,  three  Cayugas,  one  Del 
aware,  and  five  Senecas — in  all  eleven.  The  two 
Mohawk  half-breeds,  whose  names  were  Rowland 
Monteur  and  John  Monteur,  seemed  to  have  command 
of  the  party. 

The  prisoners  taken  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Gilbert  were, 
himself,  his  wife,  his  sons  Joseph,  Jesse  and  Abner, 
his  daughters  Rebecca  and  Elizabeth,  his  daughter-in- 
law,  Sarah  Gilbert,  wife  of  his  son  Jesse,  Thomas 
Peart,  a  son  of  Mrs.  Gilbert  by  a  former  husband, 
Benjamin  Gilbert,  jr.,  a  grandson,  Andrew  Harrigar, 
a  German  laborer  in  the  employment  of  Mr.  Gilbert, 
and  Abigail  Dodson,  a  girl  about  fourteen  years  of 
age,  who  had  been  sent  that  morning  by  one  of  the 
neighbors  with  a  grist  to  the  mill. 

With  these  captives  the  Indians  proceeded  abou 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  301 

half  a  mile  to  the  house  of  Benjamin  Peart,  (another 
son  of  Mrs.  Gilbert,)  whom,  with  his  wife  and  their 
child,  about  nine  months  old,  they  also  captured. 

The  prisoners  were  here  bound  with  cords,  and  left 
under  a  guard  for  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  the 
rest  of  the  Indians  employed  themselves  in  pillaging 
the  house,  and  packing  up  such  goods  as  they  chose 
to  carry  off,  until  they  had  got  together  a  sufficient 
loading  for  three  horses,  which  they  took.  This  com 
pleted,  they  began  their  retreat,  two  of  their  number 
being  detached  to  fire  the  buildings.  From  an  emi 
nence  called  Summer  Hill,  which  they  passed  over, 
the  captives  could  observe  the  flames  and  the  falling 
in  of  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  They  cast  back  a  sor 
rowful  look  towards  their  dwellings,  but  were  not  per 
mitted  to  stop  until  they  had  reached  the  further  side 
of  the  hill,  where  the  party  sat  down  to  make  a  short 
repast ;  but  grief  prevented  the  prisoners  from  eating. 

The  Indians  speedily  put  forward  again — not  being 
so  far  removed  from  the  settlement  as  to  be  secure 
from  pursuit.  A  little  further  on  was  a  hill,  called 
Machunk,  where  they  halted  nearly  an  hour,  and 
prepared  moccasons  for  some  of  the  children. 

Resuming  their  journey,  they  passed  over  another 
steep  hill,  and  in  a  short  time  they  reached  Broad 
Mountain,  the  prisoners  wearied  and  almost  exhausted. 
Mrs.  Gilbert,  who  was  nearly  sixty  years  of  age,  be 
lieving  herself  unable  to  make  the  ascent  cf  this  moun 
tain  on  foot,  sat  down  in  weariness  of  body  and  in 

26 


302  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

anguish  of  spirit,  declaring  she  could  proceed  no  far 
ther.  But  being  threatened  by  the  Indians  with 
instant  death,  if  she  delayed  them  in  their  journey, 
she  was  compelled  to  make  her  toilsome  way  up  th« 
mountain,  nearly  fainting  at  every  step.  Having 
reached  the  summit,  the  captives  were  permitted  to 
rest  for  about  an  hour.  The  Broad  Mountain  is  said 
to  be  seven  miles  across,  and  about  ten  miles  from 
Gilbert's  settlement. 

Leaving  Broad  Mountain,  they  struck. into  Neska- 
peck  path,  which  they  followed  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  crossing  Quackac  creek,  and  passing  over  Pis 
mire  Hill,  and  through  the  Moravian  Pine  Swamp,  to 
Mahoniah  Mountain,  where  they  lodged  that  night. 
The  prisoners  were  allowed,  for  beds,  branches  of 
hemlock  strewed  on  the  ground,  and  blankets  for 
covering — an  indulgence  scarcely  to  have  been  ex 
pected  from  their  savage  captors.  To  prevent  their 
escape,  however,  a  contrivance  was  resorted  to  that 
completely  marred  the  little  comfort  they  might  other 
wise  have  enjoyed.  A  sapling  about  the  thickness  of 
a  man's  thigh  was  cut  down,  in  which  notches  were 
made ;  the  legs  of  the  prisoners  were  then  placed  in 
notches,  and  another  sapling  placed  over  the  first  and 
made  fast ;  a  cord  was  also  put  about  their  necks  and 
fastened  to  a  tree ;  thus  effectually  confining  them,  in 
this  stretched-out  position,  all  night  upon  their  backs. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  continued  their  route 
the  waters  of  terrapin  ponds.     The  Indians  that 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  303 

day  deemed  it  best  to  separate  in  companies  of  two, 
each  under  the  command  of  a  particular  Indian, 
spreading  them  to  a  considerable  distance,  in  order  to 
render  a  pursuit  as  nearly  impracticable  as  possible. 
During  the  day,  the  Indian  under  whose  direction 
Benjamin  Gilbert  and  his  wife  were  placed,  frequently 
threatened  them  with  instant  death,  whenever  from 
fatigue  they  began  to  lag  in  the  journey.  Towards 
evening  the  parties  again  met  and  encamped.  Having 
killed  a  deer,  they  kindled  a  fire  and  roasted  the  flesh, 
each  man  holding  a  piece  of  it  over  the  coals  or  in  the 
flame,  by  means  of  pointed  sticks.  The  confinement 
of  the  prisoners  was  similar  to  that  which  they  endured 
the  night  before. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  a  council  was 
held  concerning  the  division  of  the  prisoners.  An 
allotment  being  made,  they  were  delivered  to  their 
several  masters,  with  instructions  to  obey  the  com 
mands  of  the  particular  Indian  whose  property  they 
became.  In  this  day's  journey  they  passed  near  Fort 
Wyoming,  on  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Susquehanna, 
about  forty  miles  from  their  late  habitation.  The  In 
dians  were  alarmed  as  they  approached  this  garrison, 
and  observed  great  caution,  suffering  not  the  least 
unnecessary  noise,  and  stepping  on  the  stones  that  lay 
on  the  path,  lest  any  footsteps  should  lead  to  a  dis 
covery.  The  night  was  spent  on  the  banks  of  a  stream 
emptying  itself  into  the  Susquehanna,  not  far  distant 
from  the  fort.  On  the  following  morning  the  prisoners 


304  HEKOIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

were  all  painted,  according  to  Indian  custom,  soma 
of  them  with  red  and  black,  some  all  red,  and  ethers 
with  black  only.  Those  whom  they  painted  black, 
without  the  mixture  of  any  other  color,  are  in  most 
cases  devoted  to  death;  and  though  they  are  not 
usually  killed  immediately,  they  are  seldom  preserved 
to  reach  the  Indian  hamlets  alive.  In  the  evening  of 
this  day,  they  came  to  the  Susquehanna,  having  had 
a  painful  and  wearisome  journey  over  a  very  stony  and 
hilly  country.  Here  the  Indians  were  more  than 
ordinarily  careful  in  seeking  a  secluded  lodging-place, 
chat  they  might  be  as  secure  as  possible  from  any 
scouting  parties  of  the  white  people.  In  the  night 
their  horses  strayed  away  from  them,  and  it  was  late 
the  next  morning  before  they  found  them  and  were 
ready  to  proceed  on  their  journey.  Their  course  lay 
along  the  river.  In  the  afternoon  they  came  to  a 
place  where  the  Indians  had  left  four  negroes,  with  a 
supply  of  corn  for  their  subsistence,  waiting  their  re 
turn.  These  negroes  had  escaped  from  their  masters, 
and  were  on  their  way  to  Niagara  when  first  dis 
covered  by  the  Indians.  Being  challenged  by  the 
latter,  they  said  they  "  were  for  the  king,"  upon  which 
they  were  received  into  protection. 

It  was  not  to  the  comfort  of  the  prisoners  that  these 
negroes  were  added  to  the  company.  They  manifested 
an  insolence  and  domineering  spirit  which  were  almost 
intolerable,  frequently  insulting  the  captives,  whipping 
them  in  mere  wantonness  and  sport,  and  in  all  respects 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  305 

treating  them  with  more  severity  than  the  Indians  did 
themselves. 

On  the  1st  of  May,  the  whole  company  came  to  a 
place  where  two  Indians  lay  dead  at  the  side  of  the 
path.  Two  others  had  been  killed  there,  but  were  re 
moved.  The  captives  were  informed  that  a  party  of 
Indians  had  taken  some  white  people  whom  they  were 
carrying  off  as  prisoners ;  the  latter  rose  upon  their 
captors  in  the  night  time,  killed  four  of  them,  and 
then  effected  their  escape.  When  the  present  company 
came  to  this  place  the  women  were  sent  forward,  and 
the  male  captives  commanded  to  draw  near  and  view 
the  dead  bodies.  After  remaining  to  observe  them 
for  some  time,  they  were  ordered  to  a  place  where  a 
tree  was  blown  down.  They  were  then  directed  to 
dig  a  grave ;  to  effect  which  they  sharpened  a  piece 
of  sapling  with  a  tomahawk,  with  which  rude  instru 
ment  one  of  them  broke  the  ground,  and  the  others 
threw  out  the  earth  with  their  hands ;  the  negroes 
being  permitted  to  beat  them  severely  all  the  time  they 
were  thus  .employed.  The  bodies  were  deposited  in 
the  grave,  and  the  prisoners  marched  a  short  distance 
farther,  where  they  found  the  Indians  who  had  gone 
forward  with  the  women,  preparing  a  lodging  place 
for  the  night.  The  captives  were  still  secured  every 
night,  in  the  manner  already  described. 

The  next  day,  towards  evening,  they  crossed  the 
east  branch  of  the  Susquehanna  in  canoes,  at  the  same 
place  where  General  Sullivan's  army  had  crossed  it 
20 


306  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

in  the  expedition  against  the  Indians.  The  horses 
swam  the  river  by  the  side  of  the  canoes.  Their  en 
campment  that  night  was  on  the  western  bank  of  the 
stream ;  but  two  Indians  who  did  not  cross  it,  sent 
for  Benjamin  Gilbert  jr.  and  Jesse  Gilbert's  wife. 
Not  being  able  to  assign  any  probable  cause  for  this 
order,  the  remaining  captives  spent  the  night  in  great 
anxiety  and  uneasiness  of  mind.  The  next  morning, 
however,  their  fears  were  dispelled  by  seeing  their 
companions  again,  who  had  received  no  worse  treat 
ment  than  usual.  This*  day,  the  Indians,  in  their 
march,  found  a  scalp  which  they  took  along  with  them, 
and  also  some  corn,  on  which  they  made  a  supper. 
They  frequently  killed  deer,  which  was  the  only  pro 
vision  the  party  had,  as  the  flour  which  they  took 
with  them  from  the  settlement  was  expended. 

On  the  4th  of  May,  the  party  was  divided  into  two 
companies ;  the  one  taking  a  path  to  the  westward, 
with  whom  were  Thomas  Peart,  Joseph  Gilbert,  Ben 
jamin  Gilbert,  jr.,  and  Jesse  Gilbert's  wife;  the  other 
company  travelled  more  to  the  north. 

In  the  evening,  as  the  company  that  took  the  north 
ern  route  was  about  to  encamp,  the  prisoners  inquired 
of  their  captors  what  had  become  of  their  four  com 
panions  who  had  been  taken  on  the  western  path.  The 
reply  was,  "  They  are  killed  and  scalped,  and  you 
may  expect  the  same  fate  to-night."  Andrew  Harrigar 
was  so  terrified  at  the  threat  that  he  resolved  upon 
flight.  As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  he  took  a  kettle,  with 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  307 

pretence  of  bringing  some  water,  and  made  his  escape 
under  cover  of  the  night.  Pursuit  was  made  by 
several  of  the  Indians  as  soon  as  he  was  missing ;  they 
remained  out  all  night  in  search  of  hin:  They  were 
not  able,  however,  to  overtake  him,  and  in  the  morn 
ing  they  returned.  Harrigar  endured  many  hardships 
in  the  woods,  and  at  length  reached  the  settlements,  and 
gave  the  first  authentic  intelligence  of  the  captives  to 
their  friends  and  neighbors. 

After  this  escape,  the  prisoners  were  treated  with 
great  severity  on'account  of  it,  and  were  often  accused 
of  being  privy  to  the  design  of  Harrigar.  Rowland 
Monteur  carried  his  resentment  so  far  that  he  threw 
Jesse  Gilbert  down,  and  lifted  his  tomahawk  to  strike 
him,  which  Mrs.  Gilbert  prevented  by  placing  her 
head  on  that  of  her  son,  and  beseeching  the  enraged 
savage  to  spare  him.  Turning  round,  he  kicked  her 
over,  and  then  tied  both  mother  and  son  by  their  necks 
to  a  tree,  where  they  remained  until  his  fury  was  a 
little  abated ;  he  then  loosed  them,  and  bade  them  pack 
up  and  go  forwards.  In  the  evening  they  came  to  one 
of  their  lodging  places  in  one  of  the  deserted  towns  of 
the  Shipquegas,  and  took  their  lodgings  in  one  of  the 
wigwams  still  standing.  The  Shipquegas  towns  had 
been  abandoned  a  short  time  before,  upon  the  ap 
proach  of  General  Sullivan's  army.  The  party  re 
mained  for  three  days  among  the  deserted  villages  of 
this  tribe.  Besides  an  abundance  of  game  here,  there 
were  plenty  of  potatoes  and  turnips  remaining  in  the 


308  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

fields  attached  to  the  villages,  which  had  not  been  dv. 
stroyed  by  the  invading  army.  Several  horses  were 
taken  here,  which  had  been  left  by  the  Shipquagas  in 
their  hasty  flight.  Upon  resuming  their  march,  Mrs. 
Gilbert  was  placed  upon  one  of  these  horses,  which 
seemed  wild  and  dangerous  to  ride,  but  she  was  not 
thrown ;  she  continued  to  ride  him  for  several  days. 

The  day  they  renewed  their  journey,  they  first 
passed  through  a  long  and  dreary  swamp,  and  then 
began  the  ascent  of  a  rugged  mountain,  where  there 
was  no  path.  The  underwood  ma5e  it  difficult  for 
the  women  to  ascend ;  but  they  were  compelled  to 
keep  pace  with  their  masters,  however  great  the 
fatigue.  When  the  mountain  was  crossed,  the  party 
tarried  awhile  for  the  negroes,  who  lagged  behind  with 
the  horses  that  carried  the  baggage.  The  whole  com 
pany  being  now  together,  they  agreed  to  encamp  in 
a  swarnp  not  far  distant.  A  long  reach  of  savannas 
and  low  grounds  rendering  their  next  day's  journey 
very  fatiguing  and  painful,  especially  to  the  women ; 
and  Elizabeth  Peart  in  particular  was  wearied  almost 
to  fainting,  by  being  compelled  to  carry  her  child,  her 
husband  not  being  permitted  to  carry  it  for  her,  or  to 
lend  her  the  least  assistance  ;  and  once  as  she  was  just 
ready  to  drop  from  fatigue,  the  Indian  who  had  charge 
of  her,  struck  her,  a  violent  blow,  to  impel  her  forward. 

On  the  third  day  after  their  departure  from  the 
Shipquagas  villages,  their  provisions  began  to  fail 
them ;  and  there  was  no  game  in  the  country  through 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  309 

winch  they  journeyed.  At  night,  worn  down  with  toil 
and  suffering  from  the  want  of  food,  Mrs.  Gilbert  was 
seized  with  a  chill.  The  Indians,  however,  gave  her 
some  flour  and  water  boiled,  which  afforded  her  some 
relief.  But  the  next  day  she  was  so  weak  that  she 
could  only  get  along  by  the  assistance  of  two  of  her 
children — her  horse  having  been  taken  from  her. 

On  the  14th  of  May,  they  came  to  Canadosago, 
where  they  met  with  Benjamin  Gilbert,  jr.,  and  Jesse 
Gilbert's  wife,  Sarah,  two  of  the  four  captives  that  had 
been  separated  from  the  rest  for  the  last  ten  days,  and 
taken  along  the  western  path.  On  the  same  day,  John 
Huston,  jr.,  the  younger  of  the  Cayuga  Indians,  under 
whose  care  Benjamin  Gilbert,  sr.,  was  placed,  design 
ing  to  dispatch  him,  painted  him  black ;  this  exceed 
ingly  terrified  the  family ;  but  no  entreaties  of  theira 
being  likely  to  prevail,  they  resigned  their  cause  to  Him 
whose  power  can  control  all  events.  Wearied  with 
travelling,  and  weak  from  the  want  of  food,  they  made 
a  stop  to  recover  themselves ;  when  the  elder  of  the 
Cayugas,  who  had  been  sent  forward  with  Abner 
Gilbert  two  days  before  to  procure  a  supply  of  pro 
visions,  returned,  assuring  them  that  a  supply  was  at 
hand. 

The  negroes  were  reduced  so  low  with  hunger,  that 
their  behavior  was  different  from  what  it  had  been, 
conducting  themselves  with  more  moderation.  At 
their  quarters,  in  the  evening,  two  white  men  came  to 
them,  one  of  whom  was  a  volunteer  among  the  British, 


810  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

|| 
the  other  had  been  taken  prisoner  some  time  before  ; 

these  two  men  brought  some  hommony,  and  sugar 
made  from  the  sweet  maple ;  of  this  provision  they 
made  a  more  comfortable  supper  than  they  had  eaten 
for  many  days. 

In  the  morning  the  volunteer,  having  received  in 
formation  of  the  rough  treatment  the  prisoners  met 
with  from  the  negroes,  relieved  them  by  taking  the 
negroes  under  his  charge  They  crossed  a  large  creek 
which  was  in  their  way,  and  had  to  swim  their  horses 
over  it.  Benjamin  Gilbert  began  to  fail,  when  an 
Indian  put  a  rope  around  his  neck,  leading  him  along 
with  it ;  fatigue  at  last  overpowered  him,  and  he  fell 
to  the  ground,  when  the  Indian  pulled  the  rope  so 
hard  that  it  almost  choked  him.  His  wife  interceded 
for  him,  when  her  entreaties  prevailed,  and  their  hearts 
were  turned  from  their  cruel  purpose. 

Necessity  induced  two  of  tht  Indians  the  next  day 
to  set  off  on  horseback,  into  the  Seneca  country,  in 
search  of  provisions.  The  prisoners,  in  the  mean  time, 
were  ordered  to  dig  up  a  root,  something  resembling 
a  potato,  which  the  Indians  call  whappanies.  They 
tarried  at  this  place,  until  towards  the  evening  of  the 
second  day,  and  made  a  soup  of  wild  onions  and  tur 
nip  tops ;  this  they  ate  without  bread  or  salt,  it  could 
not  therefore  afford  sufficient  sustenance,  either  for 
young  or  old ;  their  food  being  so  very  light  their 
strength  daily  wasted. 

Having  left  this  place,  they  crossed  the  Genesee 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  311 

river  on  a  raft  of  logs,  bound  together  by  hickory 
withes ;  this  appeared  to  be  a  dangerous  method  of 
ferrying  them  over  such  a  river,  to  those  who  had  been 
unaccustomed  to  such  conveyances.  They  fixed  their 
station  near  the  Genesee  banks,  and  procured  more  of 
the  wild  potato  roots  before  mentioned,  for  their 
supper. 

On  the  following  day,  one  of  the  Indians  left  the 
company,  taking  with  him  the  finest  horse  they  had, 
and  in  some  hours  after  returned  with  a  large  piece 
of  meat,  ordering  the  captives  to  broil  it ;  this  com 
mand  they  cheerfully  performed,  anxiously  watching 
the  kettle,  fresh  meat  being  a  rarity  which  they  had 
not  for  a  long  time  enjoyed.  The  Indians,  when  it 
was  sufficiently  boiled,  distributed  to  each  person  a 
piece,  eating  sparingly  themselves.  The  prisoners 
made  their  repast  without  bread  or  salt,  and  ate  with 
a  good  deal  of  relish  what  they  supposed  to  be  fresh 
beef,  but  afterwards  understood  it  was  horse  flesh. 

A  shrill  halloo  which  they  heard,  gave  the  prisoners 
some  uneasiness ;  one  of  the  Indians  immediately  rode 
to  examine  the  cause,  and  found  it  was  Captain  Row 
land  Monteur,  and  his  brother  John's  wife,  with  some 
other  Indians,  who  were  seeking  them  with  provisions. 
The  remainder  of  the  company  soon  reached  them, 
and  they  divided  some  bread,  which  they  had  brought, 
into  small  pieces,  according  to  the  number  of  the  com 
pany.  The  captain  and  his  company  had  brought  with 
them  cakes  of  hommony  and  Indian  corn ;  of  this  they 


312  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

made  a  good  meal.  He  appeared  pleased  to  see  the 
prisoners,  having  been  absent  from  them  several  days, 
and  ordered  them  all  round  to  shake  hands  with  him. 
From  him  they  received  information  respecting  Joseph 
Gilbert  and  Thomas  Peart,  who  were  separated  from 
the  others  on  the  fourth  of  the  month,  and  learned 
that  they  ha'd  arrived  at  the  Indian  settlements,  some 
time  before,  in  safety.  The  company  staid  the  night 
at  this  place.  One  of  the  Indians  refused  to  suffer 
any  of  them  to  come  near  his  fire,  or  converse  with 
the  prisoner,  who,  in  the  distribution  had  fallen  tc 
him.  Pounding  hommony  was  the  next  day's  employ 
ment  ;  the  weather  being  warm,  made  it  a  hard  task ; 
they  boiled  and  prepared  it  for  supper,  the  Indians 
sitting  down  to  eat  first,  and  when  they  had  concluded 
their  meal,  they  wiped  the  spoon  on  the  sole  of  their 
moccasons,  and  then  gave  it  to  the  captives. 

Having  resumed  their  journey,  Elizabeth  Gilbert, 
being  obliged  to  ride  alone,  missed  the  path,  for  which 
the  Indians  repeatedly  struck  her.  Their  route  still 
continued  through  rich  meadows.  After  wandering 
for  a  time  out  of  the  direct  path,  they  came  to  an  In 
dian  town,  and  obtained  the  necessary  information  to 
pursue  their  journey ;  the  Indians  ran  out  of  their 
huts  to  see  the  prisoners,  and  to  partake  of  the  plunder, 
but  no  part  of  it  suited  them.  Being  directed  to  travel 
the  back  path  again,  for  a  short  distance,  they  did  so, 
and  then  struck  into  another,  and  went  on  until  night, 
by  which  time  they  were  very  hungry,  not  having 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  313 

on  ton  sin?e  morning;  the  kettle  was  again  set  on  the 
fire  for  hommony,  this  being  their  only  food. 

On  the  21st  of  May,  the  report  of  a  morning-gun 
from  Niagara,  which  they  heard,  contributed  to  raise 
their  hopes — they  rejoiced  at  being  so  near.  An  In 
dian  was  dispatched,  on  horseback,  to  procure  some 
provisions  from  the  fort. 

Elizabeth  Gilbert  could  not  walk  as  fast  as  the  rest, 
she  was  therefore  sent  forward  on  foot,  but  was  soon 
overtaken  and  left  behind,  the  rest  being  obliged  by 
the  Indians  to  go  on  without  regarding  her.  She 
would  have  been  greatly  perplexed,  when  she  came  to 
a  division  path,  had  not  her  husband  laid  a  branch 
across  the  path  which  would  have  led  her  wrong — an 
affecting  instance  of  both  ingenuity  and  tenderness. 
She  met  several  Indians,  who  passed  by  withouj; 
speaking  to  her. 

An  Indian  belonging  to  the  company,  who  was  on  the 
horse  Elizabeth  Gilbert  had  ridden,  overtook  her,  and 
endeavored  to  alarm  her,  by  saying  that  she  would  be 
left  behind,  and  perish  in  the  woods :  yet,  notwith 
standing  this,  his  heart  was  so  softened  before  he  had 
gone  any  great  distance  .from  her,  that  he  alighted 
from  his  horse  and  left  him,  that  she  might  be  able  to 
reach  the  rest  of  the  company.  The  more  seriously 
she  considered  this,  the  more  it  appeared  to  her  to  be 
a  convincing  instance  of  the  overruling  protection  of 
Him,  who  can  "  turn  the  heart  of  man  as  the  husband 
man  turneth  the  water-course  in  his  field." 


311  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

As  the  Indians  approached  nearer  their  habitations, 
they  frequently  repeated  their  halloos,  and  after  some 
time  they  received  an  answer  in  the  same  manner, 
which  alarmed  the  company  much ;  but  they  soon  dis 
covered  it  to  proceed  from  a  party  of  whites  and  In 
dians,  who  were  on  some  expedition,  though  their  pre 
tence  was  that  they  were  for  New  York.  Not  long 
after  parting  with  these,  Rowland  Monteur's  wife 
CB,rne  to  them ;  she  was  daughter  to  Siangorochti, 
kmg  of  the  Senecas,  but  her  mother  being  a  Cayuga, 
she  was  ranked  among  that  nation,  the  children  gene 
rally  reckoning  their  descent  from  the  mother's  side. 
This  princess  was  attended  by  the  captain's  brother, 
John,  one  other  Indian,  and  a  white  prisoner  who  had 
been  taken  at  Wyoming,  by  Rowland  Monteur ;  she 
was  dressed  altogether  in  the  Indian  manner,  shining 
with  gold  lace  and  silver  baubles.  They  brought  with 
them  from  the  fort  a  supply  of  provisions.  The  cap 
tain  being  at  a  distance  behind,  when  his  wife  came, 
the  company  waited  for  him.  After  the  customary 
salutations,  he  addressed  himself  to  his  wife,  telling 
her  that  Rebecca  was  her  daughter,  and  that  she  must 
not  be  induced,  by  any  consideration,  to  part  with  her  ; 
whereupon  she  took  a  silver  ring  off  her  finger,  and 
put  it  upon  Rebecca's,  by  which  she  was  adopted  as 
her  daughter. 

They  feasted  upon  the  provisions  that  were  brought, 
for  they  had  been  for  several  days  before  pinched  with 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  313 

hunger,  what  sustenance  they  could  procure  nol  being 
sufficient  to  support  nature. 

The  next  day,  the  Indians  proceeded  on  their  jour 
ney,  and  continued  whooping  in  the  most  frightful 
manner.  In  this  day's  route,  they  met  another  com 
pany  of  Indians,  who  compelled  Benjamin  Gilbert, 
the  elder,  to  sit  on  the  ground,  when  they  put  several 
questions  to  kirn,  to  which  he  gave  them  the  best  an 
swer  he  could ;  they  then  took  his  hat  from  him  and 
went  off. 

Going  through  a  small  town  near  Niagara,  an  In 
dian  woman  came  out  of  one  of  the  huts,  and  struck 
each  of  the  captives  a  blow.  Not  long  after  their 
departure  from  this  place,  Jesse,  Rebecca,  and  their 
mother,  were  detained  until  the  others  had  got  out  of 
thei*  sight,  when  the  mother  was  ordered  to  push  on ; 
and  as  she  had  to  go  by  herself,  she  was  much  per 
plexed  what  course  to  take,  as  there  was  no  path  by 
which  she  could  be  directed.  In  this  dilemma,  she 
concluded  to  keep  as  straight  forward  as  possible,  and 
after  some  space  of  time,  she  had  the  satisfaction  of 
overtaking  the  others.  The  pilot  then  made  a  short 
stay,  that  those  who  were  behind  might  come  up,  and 
the  captain  handed  some  rum  round,  giving  each  a 
dram,  except  the  two  old  folks,  whom  they  did  not 
consider  worthy  of  this  notice.  Here  the  captain, 
who  had  the  chief  direction,  painted  Abner,  Jesse, 
Rebecca,  and  Elizabeth  Gilbert,  jr.,  and  presented 
each  with  a  belt  of  wampum,  as  a  token  of  their  being 


316  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

received  into  favor,  although  they  took  from  them  all 
their  hats  and  bonnets,  except  Rebecca's. 

The  prisoners  were  released  from  the  loads  they 
had  heretofore  been  compelled  to  carry,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  treatment  they  expected  on  their  ap 
proaching  the  Indian  towns,  and  the  hardships  after 
a  separation,  their  situation  would  have  been  tolerable ; 
but  the  horrors  of  their  minds,  arising  from  the  dread 
ful  yells  of  the  Indians,  as  they  approached  the  ham 
lets,  is  easier  conceived  than  described,  for  they  were 
no  strangers  to  the  customary  cruelty  exercised  upon 
captives  on  entering  their  towns.  The  Indians,  men, 
women,  and  children,  collect  together,  bringing  clubs 
and  stones  in  order  to  beat  them,  which  they  usually 
do  with  great  severity,  by  way  of  revenge  for  their 
relations  who  have  been  slain ;  this  is  performed  im 
mediately  upon  their  entering  the  village  where  the 
warriors  reside.  This  treatment  cannot  be  avoided, 
and  the  blows,  however  cruel,  must  be  borne  without 
complaint,  and  the  prisoners  are  sorely  beaten,  until 
their  enemies  are  wearied  with  the  cruel  sport.  Their 
sufferings  were  in  this  case  very  great,  they  received 
several  wounds,  and  two  of  the  women,  who  were  on 
horseback,  were  much  bruised  by  the  falling  of  their 
horses,  which  were  frightened  by  the  Indians.  Eliza 
beth,  the  mother,  took  shelter  by  the  side  of  one  of 
them,  but  upon  observing  that  she  met  with  some 
lavor  upon  his  account,  he  sent  her  away ;  she  then 
received  several  violent  blows,  so  that  she  was  almost 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  317 

disabled.  The  bjood  trickled  from  their  heads  in  a 
stream,  their  hair  being  cut  close,  and  the  clothes  they 
had  on,  in  rags,  made  their  situation  truly  piteous. 
Whilst  they  were  inflicting  this  revenge  upon  the  cap 
tives,  the  king  came,  and  put  a  stop  to  any  farther 
cruelty,  by  telling  them  "It  was  sufficient,"  which 
they  immediately  attended  to. 

Benjamin  Gilbert,  and  Elizabeth  his  wife,  were  or 
dered  to  Captain  Rowland  Monteur's  house  ;  the  wo 
men  belonging  to  it  were  kind  to  them,  and  gave  them 
something  to  eat :  Sarah  Gilbert,  Jesse's  wife,  was 
taken  from  them  by  three,  women,  in  order  to  be  put 
in  the  family  she  was  to  be  adopted  by. 

Two  officers,  froM  Niagara  Fort,  Captains  Dace 
and  Powel,  came  to  see  the  prisoners,  and  prevent, 
as  they  were  informed,  any  abuse  that  might  be  given 
them.  Benjamin  Gilbert  informed  these  officers,  that 
he  was  apprehensive  they  were  in  great  danger  of  be 
ing  murdered,  upon  which  they  promised  him  they 
would  send  a  boat,  the  next  day,  to  bring  them  to 
Niagara. 

Notwithstanding  the  kind  intention  of  the  officers, 
they  did  not  derive  the  expected  advantage  from  it, 
the  next  day,  for  the  Indians  insisted  on  their  going 
to  the  rort  on  foot,  although  the  bruises  they  had  re 
ceived  the  day  before,  from  the  many  severe  blows 
given  them,  rendered  their  journey  on  foot  very  dis 
tressing  ;  but  Captain  Monteur  obstinately  persisting, 
they  dared  not  remonstrate,  or  refuse. 


318  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

When  they  left  the  Indian  town,  several  issued  from 
theii  huts  after  them  with  sticks  in  their  hands,  yell 
ing  and  screeching  in  the  most  dismal  manner ;  but 
through  the  interposition  of  four  Indian  women,  who 
had  come  with  the  captives,  to  prevent  any  further 
abuse  they  might  receive,  they  were  preserved.  One 
of  them  walking  between  Benjamin  Gilbert  and  his 
wife,  led  them,  and  desired  Jesse  to  keep  as  near  them 
as  he  could,  the  other  three  walked  behind,  and  pre 
vailed  with  the  young  Indians  to  desist.  They  had 
not  pursued  their  route  long,  before  they  saw  Captain 
John  Powel,  who  came  from  his  boat,  and  persuaded 
(though  with  some  difficulty)  the  Indians  to  get  into 
it,  with  the  captives,  which  relieved  them  from  their 
apprehensions  of  further  danger.  After  reaching  the 
fort,  Captain  Powel  introduced  them  to  Colonel  Guy 
Johnson,  and  Colonel  Butler,  who  asked  the  prisoners 
many  questions,  in  the  presence  of  the  Indians.  They 
presented  the  captain  with  a  belt  of  wampum,  which 
is  a  constant  practice  among  them,  when  they  intend 
a  ratification  of  the  peace.  Before  their  connection 
with  Europeans,  these  belts  were  made  of  shells,  found 
on  the  coasts  of  New  England  and  Virginia,  which 
were  sawed  out  into  beads  of  an  oblong  shape,  about 
a  quarter  of  an  inch  long,  which  when  strung  together 
on  leather  strings,  and  these  strings  fastened  with  fine 
threads  made  of  sinews,  compose  what  is  called  a  belt 
of  wampum.  But  since  the  whites  have  gained  footing 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  319 

amongst  them,  they  make  use  of  the  common  glass 
beads  for  this  purpose. 

On  the  25th  of  May,  Benjamin  Gilbert,  his  wifd 
Elizabeth,  and  their  son  Jesse,  were  surrendered  to 
Colonel  Johnson,  in  whose  family  they  received  much 
kindness.  The  colonel's  housekeeper  was  particularly 
attentive  to  them,  not  only  inviting  them  to  her  house, 
where  she  gave  the  old  folks  her  best  room,  but  ad 
ministering  to  their  necessities  and  endeavoring  to 
soothe  their  sorrows. 

A  few  days  after  they  came  to  the  fort,  they  had 
information  that  Benjamin  Peart  was  by  the  river  side, 
with  the  Indians  ;  upon  hearing  this  report,  his  mo 
ther  went  to  see  him,  but  every  attempt  to  obtain  his 
release  was  in  vain ;  the  Indians  would  by  no  means 
give  him  up.  From  this  place  they  intended  to  march 
with  their  prisoners  to  the  Genesee  river,  about  one 
hundred  miles  distant.  As  the  affectionate  mother's 
solicitations  proved  fruitless,  her  son  not  only  felt  the 
afflicting  loss  of  his  wife  and  child,  from  whom  he  had 
been  torn  some  time  before,  but  the  renewal  of  his 
grief  on  this  short  sight  of  his  parent.  She  procured 
him  a  hat,  and  also  some  salt,  which  was  an  acceptable 
burden  for  the  journey. 

Benjamin  Gilbert,  conversing  with  the  Indian  cap 
tain  who  made  them  captives,  observed  that  he  migh. 
Bay  what  none  of  the  other  Indians  could,  "  That  he 
had  brought  in  the  oldest  man,  and  the  youngest 
child;"  his  reply  to  this  was  expressive  ;  "  It  was  not 


320  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

I.  but  the  great  God  who  brought  you  through,  for 
we  were  determined  to  kill  you,  but  were  prevented.' 

The  British  officers  being  informed  that  Jesse  Gil 
bert's  wife  was  among  the  Indians,  with  great  tender 
ness  agreed  to  seek  her  out,  and  after  a  diligent  in 
quiry,  found  that  she  was  among  the  Delawares ;  they 
went  to  them,  and  endeavored  to  agree  upon  some 
terms  for  her  release ;  the  Indians  brought  her  to  the 
fort  the  next  day,  but  would  not  give  her  up  to  her 
relations. 

Early  next  morning,  Captain  Kobeson  generously 
undertook  to  procure  her  liberty,  which,  after  much 
attention  and  solicitude,  he,  together  with  Lieutenant 
Hillyard,  happily  accomplished.  They  made  the  In 
dians  some  small  presents,  and  gave  them  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  as  a  ransom.  When  Sarah  Gilbert 
had  obtained  her  liberty,  she  altered  her  dress  more 
in  character  for  her  sex,  than  she  had  been  able  to  do 
whilst  among  the  Indians,  and  went  to  her  husband 
and  parents  at  Colonel  Johnson's,  where  she  was  joy 
fully  received.  Colonel  Johnson's  housekeeper  con 
tinued  her  kind  attentions  to  them,  during  their  stay, 
and  procured  clothing  for  them  from  the  public  stores 

About  the  1st  of  June,  the  Senecas,  among  whom 
Elizabeth  Peart  was  a  captive,  brought  her  with  them 
to  the  fort ;  as  soon  as  the  mother  heard  of  it,  she  went 
to  her,  and  had  some  conversation  with  her,  but  could 
not  learn  where  she  was  to  be  sent  to ;  she  then  in 
quired  of  the  interpreter,  and  pressed  on  his  friend 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY. 

ship,  to  learn  what  was  to  become  of  her  daughter , 
this  request  he  complied  with,  and  informed  her  that 
she  was  to  be  given  away  to  another  family  of  the  Se- 
necas,  and  adopted  among  them,  in  the  place  of  a  de 
ceased  relation.  Captain  Powel  interested  himself 
in  her  case  likewise,  and  offered  to  purchase  her  of 
them,  but  the  Indians  refused  to  give  hp.r  up ;  and  as 
the  mother  and  daughter  expected  they  should  see 
each  other  no  more,  their  parting  was  very  affecting. 

The  woman  who  had  adopted  Rebecca  as  her 
daughter,  came  also  to  the  fort,  and  Elizabeth  Gilbert 
made  use  of  this  opportunity  to  inquire  concerning 
her  daughter ;  the  interpreter  informed  her  that  there 
was  no  probability  of  obtaining  the  enlargement  of 
her  child,  as  the  Indians  would  not  part  with  her.  All 
she  could  do  was  to  recommend  her  to  their  notice,  as 
very  weakly,  and  in  consequence  not  able  to  endure 
much  fatigue. 

Not  many  days  after  their  arrival  at  Niagara,  a 
vessel  came  up  Niagara  to  the  fort,  with  orders  for 
the  prisoners  to  go  to  Montreal.  In  this  vessel  came 
the  notorious  Indian  chief,  Brant.  Elizabeth  Gilbert 
immediately  applied  to  him  in  behalf  of  her  children 
who  yet  remained  in  captivity,  when  he  promised  to 
use  his  endeavors  to  procure  their  liberty,  A  short 
time  before  they  sailed  for  Montreal,  they  received 
accounts  of  Abner  and  Elizabeth  Gilbert  the  younger, 
but  it  was  understood  that  their  possessors  were  not 
disposed  to  give  them  up.  As  the  prospect  of  obtaining 
21 


322  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  release  of  their  children  was  so  very  discouraging, 
it  was  no  alleviation  to  their  distress  to  be  removed  to 
Montreal,  where,  in  all  probability,  they  would  seldom 
be  able  to  gain  any  information  respecting  them ;  on 
which  account,  they  were  very  solicitous  to  stay  at 
Niagara,  but  the  colonel  said  they  could  not  remain 
there,  unless  the  son  would  enter  into  the  king's  ser 
vice  ;  this  could  not  be  consented  to,  therefore  they 
chose  to  submit  to  every  calamity  which  might  be  per 
mitted  to  befal  them,  and  confide  in  the  great  Con 
troller  of  events.  After  continuing  ten  days  at  Co 
lonel  Johnson's,  they  took  boat  and  crossed  the  Nia 
gara,  in  order  to  go  on  board  the  vessel  which  was  to 
take  them  to  Montreal. 

Benjamin  Gilbert  had  been  much  indisposed  before 
they  left  the  fort,  and  his  disorder  was  increased  by  a 
rain  which  fell  on  their  passage,  as  they  were  without 
any  covering.  They  passed  Oswagatchy,  an  English 
garrison,  by  the  side  of  the  river,  but  they  were  not 
permitted  to  stop  here ;  they  proceeded  down  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  the  rain  continuing,  went  on  shore  on 
an  island  in  order  to  secure  themselves  from  the  wea 
ther.  Here  they  made  a  shelter  for  Benjamin  Gilbert, 
and  when  the  rain  ceased,  a  place  was  prepared  for 
him  in  the  boat,  that  he  might  lie  down  with  more 
ease.  His  bodily  weakness  made  such  rapid  progress, 
that  it  rendered  all  the  aare  and  attention  of  his  wife 
necessary,  and  likewise  called  forth  all  her  fortitude : 
she  supported  him  in  her  arms,  affording  every  pos- 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  322 

sible  relief  to  mitigate  his  extreme  pains.  Although 
in  this  distressed  condition,  he,  notwithstanding,  gave 
a  satisfactory  evidence  of  the  virtue  and  power  of  a 
patient  and  holy  resignation,  which  can  disarm  the 
king  of  terrors,  and  receive  him  as  a  welcome  mes 
senger.  Thus  prepared,  he  passed  from  this  state  of 
probation,  the  8th  of  June,  1780,  in  the  evening, 
leaving  his  wife  and  two  children,  who  were  with  him, 
in  all  the  anxiety  of  deep  distress,  although  they  had 
no  doubt  but  that  their  loss  was  his  everlasting  gain. 
Being  without  a  light  in  the  boat,  the  darkness  of  the 
night  added  not  a  little  to  their  malancholy  situation. 
As  there  were  not  any  others  with  Elizabeth  Gilbert 
but  her  children,  and  four  Frenchmen,  who  managed 
the  boat,  and  her  apprehensions  alarmed  her  lest  they 
should  throw  the  corpse  overboard,  as  they  appeared 
to  be  an  unfeeling  company,  she  therefore  applied  to 
some  British  officers  who  were  in  a  boat  behind  them, 
who  dispelled  her  fears,  and  received  her  under  their 
protection.  In  the  morning  they  passed  the  garrison 
of  Cceur  de  Lac,  and  waited  for  some  considerable 
time,  a  small  distance  below  it.  Squire  Campbell,  who 
had  the  charge  of  the  prisoners,  when  he  heard  of 
Benjamin  Gilbert's  decease,  sent  Jesse  to  the  com 
rnandant  of  this  garrison  to  get  a  coffin,  in  which  they 
put  the  corpse,  and  very  hastily  interred  him  under  an 
oak,  not  far  from  the  fort.  The  boatmen  would  not 
allow  his  widow  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  his  memory, 
)ut  regardless  of  her  affliction  refused  to  wait. 


824  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

The  next  day,  they  arrived  at  Montreal,  where  the} 
remained  for  more  than  a  year,  receiving  much  kind 
ness  both  from  the  British  officers  and  soldiers  and  a 
number  of  the  inhabitants.  Being  placed  upon  the 
list  of  the  king's  prisoners,  daily  rations  were  allowed 
them. 

During  the  time  they  remained  here,  they  applied 
to  Colonel  Campbell  for  such  assistance  as  he  could 
render  them  in  procuring  the  release  of  the  other  cap»- 
tives  from  the  Indians.  He  took  down  a  short  account 
of  their  sufferings,  and  forwarded  the  narrative  to 
General  Huldimund,  at  Quebec,  desiring  his  attention 
to  the  sufferers.  The  general  immediately  issued  or 
ders  that  all  the  officers  under  his  command  should 
endeavor  to  procure  the  release  of  the  prisoners,  and 
that  every  garrison  should  furnish  them  with  neces 
saries  as  they  came  down.  Soon  after  this,  Mrs.  Gilbert 
was  one  day  at  the  house  of  a  Mrs.  Scott,  in  Mon 
treal,  when  she  was  informed  that  some  persons  in  an 
adjoining  room  were  desirous  of  seeing  her.  Her  joy 
may  be  imagined  when,  upon  entering  the  apartment, 
she  beheld  six  of  her  long  lost  children. 

A  messenger  was  sent  to  inform  Jesse  and  his  wife, 
that  Joseph  Gilbert,  Benjamin  Peart,  Elizabeth  his 
wife,  and  young  child,  Abner  and  Elizabeth  Gilbert, 
the  younger,  were  with  their  mother.  It  must  afford 
very  pleasing  reflections  to  any  affectionate  disposi 
tion,  to  dwell  awhile  on  this  scene,  that  after  a  cap 
tivity  of  nearly  fourteen  months,  so  happy  a  meeting 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  325 

should  take  place.  Thomas  Peart,  who  had  obtained 
his  liberty,  tarried  at  Niagara,  that  he  might  be  of 
service  to  the  two  jet  remaining  in  captivity,  viz.  Ben 
jamin  Gilbert,  jr.  and  Rebecca  Gilbert.  Abigail  Dod- 
son,  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  farmer,  who  was 
taken  with  them,  having  inadvertently  informed  the 
Indians  she  was  not  of  the  Gilbert  family,  all  attempts 
for  her  liberty  were  fruitless. 

*  We  shall  now  relate  hpw  Joseph  Gilbert,  the  eldest 
son  of  the  deceased,  fared  among  the  Indians.  He, 
with  Thomas  Peart,  Benjamin  Gilbert,  jr.  and  Jesse 
Gilbert's  wife  Sarah,  were  taken  along  the  westward 
path,  as  before  related ;  after  some  short  continuance 
in  this  path,  Thomas  Peart  and  Joseph  Gilbert  were 
taken  from  the  other  two,  and  by  a  different  route 
through  many  difficulties,  they  were  brought  to  Cara- 
cadera,  where  they  received  the  insults  of  the  women 
and  children,  whose  husbands  had  fallen  in  their  hostile 
excursions. 

Joseph  Gilbert  was  separated  from  his  companion, 
and  removed  to  an  Indian  town,  called  Nundow,  about 
seven  miles  from  Caracadera ;  his  residence  was,  for 
several  weeks,  in  the  king's  family,  whose  hamlet  was 
superior  to  the.  other  small  huts.  The  king  himself 
brought  him  some  hommony,  and  treated  him  with 
great  civility,  intending  his  adoption  into  his  family, 
in  place  of  one  of  his  sons,  who  was  slain  when  Gene 
ral  Sullivan  drove  them  from  their  habitations.  A  s 
Nundow  was  not  to  be  the  place  of  his  abode,  his 

28 


326  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

quarters  were  soon  changed,  and  he  was  taken  back 
to  Caracadera. 

The  situation  of  Elizabeth  Peart,  wife  of  Benjamin., 
and  her  child  is  next  related.  After  she  and  the  child 
were  parted  from  her  husband,  Abigail  Dodson  and 
;he  child  were  taken  several  miles  in  the  night,  to  a 
little  hut,  where  they  staid  till  morning,  and  the  day 
following  were  taken  within  eight  miles  of  Niagara, 
where  she  was  adopted  into  one  of  the  families  of  Se- 
necas ;  the  ceremonies  of  adoption  to  her  were  tedious 
and  distressing ;  they  obliged  her  to  sit  down  with  a 
young  man,  an  Indian,  and  the  eldest  chieftain  of  the 
family  repeated  a  jargon  of  words,  to  her  unintelli 
gible,  but  which  she  considered  as  some  form  of  mar 
riage,  and  this  apprehension  introduced  the  most  vio 
lent  agitations,  as  she  was  fully  determined,  at  all 
events,  to  oppose  any  steps  of  this  nature ;  but  after 
the  old  Indian  concluded  his  speech,  she  was  relieved 
from  the  dreadful  embarrassment  she  had  been  under, 
as  she  was  led  away  by  another  Indian.  Abigail  Dod 
son  was  given  the  same  day  to  one  of  the  families  of 
the  Cayuga  nation,  so  that  Elizabeth  Peart  saw  her 
no  more. 

The  man  who  led  Elizabeth  from  the  company,  took 
her  into  the  family  for  whom  they  adopted  her,  and 
introduced  her  to  her  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters, 
in  the  Indian  style,  who  received  her  very  kindly,  and 
made  a  grievous  lamentation  over  her,  according  to 
custom.  After  she  had  been  with  them  two  days,  the 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  827 

whole  family  left  their  habitation  and  went  about  two 
miles  to  Fort  Slusher,  where  they  staid  several  days. 
This  fort  is  about  one  mile  above  Niagara  Falls. 

As  she  was  much  indisposed,  the  Indians  were  de 
tained  several  days  for  her*;  but  as  they  cared  little 
for  her,  she  was  obliged  to  lie  on  the  damp  ground, 
which  prevented  her  speedy  recovery.  As  soon  as  her 
disorder  abated  its  violence,  they  set  off  in  a  bark 
canoe  for  Buffalo  creek  ;  and  as  they  went  slowly, 
they  had  an  opportunity  of  taking  some  fish.  When 
they  arrived  at  their  place  of  intended  settlement,  they 
went  on  shore  to  build  a  house.  A  few  days  after  they 
came  to  this  new  settlement,  they  returned  with  Eli 
zabeth  to  Fort  Slusher,  when  she  was  told  her  child 
must  be  taken  away  from  her ;  this  was  truly  afflict 
ing,  but  all  remonstrances  were  in  vain.  From  Fort 
Slusher  she  travelled  on  foot,  carrying  her  child  to 
Niagara,  it  being  eighteen  miles,  and  in  sultry  weather, 
which  rendered  it  a  painful  addition  to  the  thoughts 
of  parting  with  her  tender  offspring.  The  intent  of 
their  journey  was  to  obtain  provisions,  and  their  stay 
at  the  fort  was  of  several  days  continuance,  Captain 
Powel  offered  her  an  asylum  in  his  house. 

The  Indians  took  the  child  from  her,  and  went  with 
it  across  the  river,  to  adopt  it  into  the  family  they 
had  assigned  for  it,  notwithstanding  Captain  Powel, 
at  his  wife's  request,  interceded  that  it  might  not  be 
removed  from  its  mother ;  but  as  it  was  so  young, 
they  returned  it  to  its  mother  after  its  adoption,  until 


328  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

it  should  be  convenient  to  send  it  to  the  family  under 
whose  protection  it  was  to  be  placed.  Obtaining  the 
provision  and  other  necessaries  they  came  to  Niagara 
to  trade  for,  they  returned  to  Fort  Slusher  on  foot, 
from  whence  they  embarked  in  their  canoes. 

It  being  near  the  time  of  planting,  they  used  much 
expedition  in  this  journey.  The  labor  and  drudgery 
in  a  family  falling  to  the  share  of  the  women,  Eliza 
beth  had  to  assist  the  squaw  in  preparing  the  ground 
and  planting  corn.  Their  provisions  being  scant,  they 
suffered  much,  and  their  dependence  for  a  sufficient 
supply  until  gathering  their  crop,  was  on  what  they 
should  receive  from  the  fort,  they  were  under  the 
necessity  of  making  a  second  journey  thither. 

They  were  two  days  on  the  road  at  this  time.  A 
small  distance  before  they  came  to  the  fort,  they  took 
her  child  from  her,  and  sent  it  to  its  destined  family, 
and  it  was.  several  months  before  she  had  an  opportu 
nity  of  seeing  it  again.  After  being  taken  from  her 
husband,  to  lose  her  darling  infant  was  a  severe  stroke : 
she  lamented  her  condition  and  wept  sorely,  for  which 
one  of  the  Indians  inhumanly  struck  her.  Her  Indian 
father  seemed  a  little  moved  to  see  her  so  distressed  ; 
and  in  order  to  console  her,  assured  her  they  would 
bring  it  back  again,  but  she  saw  it  not  until  the  spring 
following.  After  they  had  disposed  of  their  peltries, 
they  returned  to  their  habitation  by  the  same  route 
which  they  had  come. 

With  a  heart  oppressed  with  sorrow,  Elizabeth  trod 


CAPTIVITY    DF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  329 

back  her  steps,  mourning  for  her  lost  infant,  for  this 
idea  presented  itself  continually  to  her  mind ;  but  as 
she  experienced  how  fruitless,  nay,  how  dangerous 
solicitations  in  behalf  of  her  own  child  were,  she  dried 
up  her  tears  and  pined  in  secret. 

Soon  after  they  had  reached  their  own  habitation, 
Elizabeth  Peart  was  again  afflicted  with  sickness.  At 
first  they  showed  some  attention  to  her  complaints, 
but  as  she  did  not  speedily  recover  so  as  to  be  able 
to  work,  they  discontinued  every  attention,  and  built 
a  small  hut  by  the  side  of  a  cornfield,  placing  her  in 
it  to  mind  the  corn.  In  this  lonely  condition  she  saw 
a  white  man,  who  had  been  made  prisoner  among  the 
the  Indians.  He  informed  her  that  her  child  was  re 
leased  and  with  the  white  people.  This  information 
revived  her  drooping  spirits,  and  a  short  time  after 
she  recovered  of  her  indisposition,  but  her  employment 
still  continued  to  be  that  of  attending  corn  until  it  was 
ripe  for  gathering,  which  she  assisted  in.  When  the 
harvest  was  over,  they  permitted  her  to  return  and 
live  with  them.  A  time  of  plenty  now  commenced, 
and  they  lived  as  if  they  had  sufficient  to  last  the  year 
through,  faring  plenteously  every  day. 

A  drunken  Indian  came  to  the  cabin  one  day,  and 
the  old  Indian  woman  complained  of  him  to  Elizabeth, 
his  behaviour  exceedingly  terrified  her ;  he  stormed 
like  fury,  and  at  length  struck  her  a  violent  blow, 
which  laid  her  on  the  ground ;  he  then  began  to  pull 
her  about  and  abuse  her  much,  when  another  of  the 
28* 


330  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

women  interposed,  and  rescued  her  from  further  suf 
fering.  Such  is  the  shocking  effects  of  spirituoua 
liquor  on  these  people,  that  it  totally  deprives  them 
both  of  sense  and  humanity. 

A  tedious  winter  prevented  them  from  leaving  their 
habitation,  and  deprived  her  of  the  pleasure  of  hear 
ing  often  of  her  friends,  who  were  very  much  scattered ; 
but  a  prisoner,  who  had  lately  seen  her  husband,  in 
formed  her  of  his  being  much  indisposed  at  the  Ge- 
nesee  river,  which  was  one  hundred  miles  distant.  On 
receiving  this  intelligence,  she  stood  in  need  of  much 
consolation,  but  had  no  source  of  comfort  except  in 
her  own  bosom. 

Near  the  return  of  spring,  the  provision  failing, 
they  were  compelled  to  go  off  to  the  fort  for  a  fresh 
supply,  having  but  a  small  portion  of  corn,  which 
they  apportioned  out  once  each  day.  Through  snow 
and  severe  frost  they  set  out  for  Niagara,  suffering 
much  from  the  excessive  cold.  And  when  they  came 
within  a  few  miles  of  the  fort,  which  they  were  four 
days  in  accomplishing,  they  struck  up  a  small  wig 
wam  for  some  of  the  family,  with  the  prisoners,  to  live 
in,  until  the  return  of  the  warriors  from  the  fort. 

As  soon  as  Captain  Powel's  wife  heard  that  the 
young  child's  mother  had  come  with  the  Indians,  she 
desired  to  see  her,  claiming  some  relationship  in  the 
Indian  way,  as  she  had  also  been  a  prisoner  amongst 
them.  They  granted  her  request,  and  Elizabeth  was 
accordingly  introduced,  and  informed  that  her  hus 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  331 

band  was  returned  to  the  fort,  and  there  was  some 
expectation  of  his  release.  The  same  day  Benjamin 
Peart  came  to  see  his  wife,  but  he  was  not  permitted 
to  continue  with  her,  as  the  Indians  insisted  on  her 
going  back  with  them  to  the  cabin,  which,  as  has  been 
related,  was  some  miles  distant.  She  was  not  allowed 
for  several  days  to  go  from  the  cabin,  but  a  white 
family  who  had  bought  the  child  from  the  Indians  to 
whom  it  had  been  presented,  offered  the  party  with 
whom  Elizabeth  had  been  confined  a  bottle  of  rum  if 
they  would  bring  her  across  the  river  to  her  child, 
which  they  did,  and  delighted  the  fond  mother  with 
this  happy  meeting,  as  she  had  not  seen  it  for  the 
space  of  eight  months. 

She  was  permitted  to  remain  with  the  family  where 
her  child  was  for  two  days,  when  she  returned  with 
the  Indians  to  their  cabin.  After  some  time  she  ob 
tained  a  further  permission  to  go  to  the  fort,  where 
she  had  some  needle  work  from  the  white  people, 
which  afforded  her  a  plea  for  often  visiting  it.  At 
length  Captain  Powel's  wife  prevailed  with  them  to 
suffer  her  to  continue  a  few  days  at  her  house  and 
work  for  her  family,  which  was  granted.  At  the  ex 
piration  of  the  time,  upon  the  coming  of  the  Indians 
for  her  to  return  with  them,  she  pleaded  indisposition, 
and  by  this  means  they  were  repeatedly  dissuaded 
from  taking  her  with  them. 

As  the  time  of  planting  drew  nigh,  she  made  use 
of  a  little  address  to  retard  her  departure ;  having  a 


332  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

small  swelling  on  her  neck,  she  applied  a  poultice, 
which  led  the  Indians  into  a  belief  that  it  was  improper 
to  remove  her,  and  they  consented  to  come  again  for 
her  in  two  weeks.  Her  child  was  given  up  to  her 
soon  after  her  arrival  at  the  fort,  where  she  had  lodged 
at  Captain  Powel's,  and  her  husband  came  frequently 
to  visit  her,  which  was  a  great  satisfaction,  as  her 
trials  in  their  separation  had  been  many. 

At  the  time  appointed,  some  of  the  Indians  came 
again,  but  she  still  pleaded  indisposition,  and  had  con 
fined  herself  to  her  bed.  One  of  the  women  interro 
gated  her  very  closely,  but  did  not  insist  upon  her 
going  back.  Thus  several  months  elapsed,  she  con 
triving  delays  as  often  as  they  came. 

When  the  vessel,  which  was  to  take  the  other  five, 
among  whom  was  her  husband  and  child,  was  ready 
to  sail, .  the  officers  at  Niagara  concluded  that  she 
might  also  go  with  them,  as  they  saw  no  reasonable 
objection,  and  they  doubted  not  but  that  it  was  in 
their  power  to  satisfy  those  Indians  who  considered 
her  as  their  property. 

Abner  Gilbert,  another  of  the  captives,  when  the 
company  had  reached  the  Indian  towns,  within  three 
miles  of  Niagara  Fort,  was,  with  Elizabeth  Gilbert 
the  younger,  separated  from  the  rest  about  the  latter 
part  of  May,  1780,  and  were  both  adopted  into  John 
Huston's  family,  who  was  of  the  Cayuga  nation.  After 
a  stay  of  three  days,  at  or  near  the  settlements  of 
these  Indians,  they  removed  to  a  place  near  the  Greai 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  333 

Falls,  which  is  about  eighteen  miles  distant  from  the 
fort,  and  loitered  there  three  days  more ;  they  then 
crossed  the  river,  and  settled  near  its  banks,  clearing 
a  piece  of  land,  and  preparing  it  with  a  hoe  for  plant 
ing.  Until  they  could  gather  their  corn,  their  de 
pendence  was  entirely  upon  the  fort.  After  the  space 
of  three  weeks  they  packed  up  their  moveables,  which 
they  generally  carry  with  them  in  their  rambles,  and 
went  down  the  river  to  get  provisions  at  Butlersbury, 
a  small  village  built  by  Colonel  Butler,  and  is  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  to  Niagara  Fort.  They 
staid  one  night  at  the  village,  observing  great  caution 
that  none  of  the  white  people  should  converse  with 
the  Indians.  Next  day,  after  transacting  their  busi 
ness,  they  returned  to  their  settlement,  and  continued 
there  but  about  one  week,  when  it  was  concluded  they 
must  go  again  for  Butlersbury ;  after  they  had  left 
their  habitation  a  small  distance,  the  head  of  the  fa 
mily  met  with  his  brother,  and  as  they  are  very  cere 
monious  in  such  interviews,  the  place  of  meeting  was 
their  rendezvous  for  that  day  and  night.  In  the  morn 
ing,  the  family,  with  the  brother  before  mentioned, 
proceeded  for  Butlersbury,  and  reached  it  before  dark 
They  went  to  the  house  of  an  Englishman,  one  John 
Secord,  who  was  styled  brother  to  the  chief  of  the  fa 
mily,  having  lived  with  him  some  time  before.  After 
some  deliberation,  it  was  agreed  that  Elizabeth  Gil 
bert  should  continue  in  this  family  until  sent  for ; 
this  was  an  agreeable  change  to  her. 


331  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

From  the  time  of  Elizabeth  being  first  introduced 
by  the  Indian  into  the  family  of  John  Secord,  who 
was  one  in  whom  he  placed  great  confidence,  she  was 
under  the  necessity  of  having  new  clothes,  as  those 
she  had  brought  from  home  were  much  worn.  Her 
situation  in  the  family  where  she  was  placed  was  com 
fortable. 

After  she  had  resided  a  few  days  with  them  she 
discovered  where  the  young  child  was,  that  had  some 
time  before  been  taken  from  its  mother,  Elizabeth 
Peart,  and  herself,  together  with  John  Secord's  wife, 
with  whom  she  lived,  and  Captain  Fry's  wife,  went  to 
Bee  it,  in  order  to  purchase  it  from  the  Indian  woman 
who  had  it  under  her  care ;  but  they  could  not  then 
prevail  with  her,  though  some  time  after  Captain  Fry's 
wife  purchased  it  for  thirteen  dollars.  Whilst  among 
the  Indians,  it  had  been  for  a  long  time  indisposed, 
and  in  a  lingering,  distressed  situation  ;  but  under  its 
present  kind  protectress,  who  treated  the  child  as  her 
own,  it  soon  recruited. 

Elizabeth  Gilbert  jr.,  lived  very  agreeably  in  John 
Secord's  family  rather  more  than  a  year,  and  became 
BO  fondly  attached  to  her  benefactors,  that  she  usually 
styled  the  mistress  of  the  house  her  mamma.  During 
her  residence  here,  her  brother  Abner  and  Thomas 
Peart  came  several  times  to  visit  her.  The  afflicting 
loss  of  her  father,  to  whom  she  was  affectionately  en 
deared,  and  the  separation  from  her  mother,  whom 
she  had  no  expectation  of  seeing  again,  was  a  severe 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  335 

trial,  although  moderated  by  the  kind  attentions  shown 
her  by  the  family  in  which  she  lived. 

John  Secord,  having  some  business  at  Niagara, 
took  Betsy  with  him,  where  she  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  six  of  her  relations,  who  had  been  captives, 
but  were  most  of  them  released.  This  happy  meeting 
made  the  trip  to  the  fort  a  very  agreeable  one.  She 
staid  with  them  all  night,  and  then  returned.  Not 
long  after  this  visit,  Colonel  Butler  and  John  Secord 
sent  for  the  Indian  who  claimed  Elizabeth  as  his  pro 
perty,  and  when  he  arrived  they  made  overtures  to 
purchase  her,  but  he  declared  he  would  not  sell  his 
own  flesh  and  blood ;  for  thus  they  style  those  whom 
they  have  adopted.  They  then  had  recourse  to  pre 
sents,  which,  overcoming  his  scruples,  they  obtained 
her  discharge ;  after  which  she  remained  two  weeks 
at  Butlersbury,  and  afterwards  went  to  her  mother  at 
Montreal. 

Having  given  a  brief  relation  of  the  release  and 
meeting  of  such  of  the  captives  as  had  returned  from 
among  the  Indians,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  return 
to  the  mother,  who,  with  several  of  her  children,  were 
at  Montreal.  Elizabeth  Gilbert  suffered  no  opportu 
nity  to  pass  her,  of  inquiring  about  her  relations  and 
friends  in  Pennsylvania,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of 
being  informed  by  one  who  came  from  the  southward, 
that  the  Friends  of  Philadelphia  had  been  very  assi 
duous  in  their  endeavors  to  gain  information  where 
the  family  was,  and  had  sent  to  the  different  meetings, 


336  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

desiring  them  to  inform  themselves  of  the  situation  ot 
the  captured  family,  and,  if  in  their  power,  afford 
them  such  relief  as  they  might  need. 

A  person  who  came  from  Crown  Point,  informed 
her  that  Benjamin  Gilbert,  a  son  of  the  deceased  by 
his  first  wife,  had  come  thither  in  order  to  be  of  what 
service  he  could  to  the  family,  and  had  desired  him 
to  make  inquiry  where  they  were,  and  in  what  situa 
tion,  and  send  him  the  earliest  information  possible. 
The  next  agreeable  intelligence  she  received  from  Nia 
gara,  by  a  young  woman  who  came  from  thence,  who 
informed  her  that  her  daughter  Rebecca  was  given  up 
to  the  English  by  the  Indians.  This  information  must 
have  been  very  pleasing,  as  their  expectations  of  her 
release  were  but  faint;  the  Indian  with  whom  she 
lived  considering  her  as  her  own  child.  It  was  not 
long  after  this,  that  Thomas  Peart,  Rebecca  Gilbert, 
and  their  cousin  Benjamin  Gilbert,  came  to  Montreal 
to  the  rest  of  the  family.  This  meeting,  after  such 
scenes  of  sorrow  as  they  had  experienced,  was  more 
completely  happy  than  can  be  expressed. 

Rebecca  Gilbert  and  Benjamin  Gilbert  jr.  were 
separated  from  their  friends  and  connections  at  a 
place  called  the  Five  Mile  Meadows,  which  was  said 
to  be  that  distance  from  Niagara.  The  Seneca  king's 
daughter,  to  whom  they  were  allowed  in  the  distribu 
tion  of  captives,  took  them  to  a  small  hut  where  her 
father,  Siangorochti,  his  queen,  and  the  rest  of  the 
family  were,  eleven  in  number.  Upon  the  reception 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  337 

of  the  prisoners  into  the  family,  there  was  much  sor 
row  and  weeping,  as  is  customary  on  such  occasions, 
and  the  higher  in  favor  the  adopted  prisoners  are  to 
be  placed,  the  greater  lamentation  is  made  over  them. 
A  fter  three  days  the  family  removed  to  a  place  called 
the  Landing,  on  the  banks  of  the  Niagara  river.  Here 
they  continued  two  days  more,  and  then  two  of  the 
^omen  went  with  the  captives  to  Niagara,  to  procure 
clothing  from  the  king's  store  for  them,  and  permitted 
them  to  ride  on  horseback  to  Fort  Slusher,  which  is 
about  eighteen  miles  distant  from  Niagara  Fort.  On 
this  journey  they  had  a  sight  of  the  great  Falls  of 
Niagara. 

During  a  stay  of  six  days  at  Fort  Slusher,  the  Bri 
tish  officers  and  others  used  their  utmost  endeavors  to 
purchase  them  of  the  Indians ;  but  the  Indian  king 
said  he  would  not  part  with  them  for  one  thousand 
dollars.  The  Indians  who  claimed  Elizabeth  Peart, 
came  to  the  fort  with  her  at^  this  time,  and  although 
she  was  very  weakly  and  indisposed,  it  was  an  agree 
able  opportunity  to  them  both,  of  conversing  with  each 
other,  but  they  were  not  allowed  to  be^frequently  to 
gether,  lest  they  should  increase  each  other's  discon 
tent.  Rebecca  being  dressed  in  the  Indian  manner, 
appeared  very  different  from  what  she  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  ;  short  clothes,  leggings,  and  a  gold  laced  hat. 
From  Fort  Niagara  they  went  about  eighteen  miles 
above  the  Falls  to  Fort  Erie,  a  garrison  of  the  En 
glish,  and  continued  their  journey  about  four  miles 
22  29 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

further,  up  Buffalo  creek,  and  pitched  their  tent.  At 
this  place  they  met  Rebecca's  father  and  mother,  by 
adoption,  who  had  gone  before  on  horseback.  They 
caught  some  fish  and  made  some  soup  of  them,  but 
Rebecca  could  eat  none  of  it,  as  it  was  cooked  without 
salt,  and  with  all  the  carelessness  of  Indians.  This 
spot  was  intended  for  their  plantation,  they  therefore 
began  to  clear  the  land  for  a  crop  of  Indian  corn. 
While  the  women  were  thus  employed,  the  men  built 
a  log  house  for  their  residence,  and  then  went  out  a 
hunting. 

Notwithstanding  the  family  they  lived  with  was  of 
the  first  rank  among  the  Indians,  and  the  head  of  it 
styled  king,  they  were  under  the  necessity  of  laboring 
as  well  as  those  of  lower  rank,  although  they  often  had 
advantages  of  procuring  more  provisions  than  the  rest. 
This  family  raised  this  summer  about  seventy-five 
bushels  of  Indian  corn.  As  Rebecca  was  not  able  to 
pursue  a  course  of  equal  labor  with  the  other  women, 
she  was  favored  by  them  by  often  being  sent  into  their 
hut  to  prepare  something  to  eat ;  and  as  she  dressed 
their  provisions  after  the  English  method,  and  had 
erected  an  oven  by  the  assistance  of  the  other  women, 
in  which  they  baked  their  bread,  their  family  fared 
more  agreeably  than  the  others. 

Benjamin  Gilbert  jr.,  who  was  only  eleven  years  of 
age  when  he  was  captured,  was  considered  as  the  king's 
successor,  and  entirely  freed  from  restraint,  so  that 
he  even  began  to  be  delighted  with  his  manner  of  life ,- 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  839 

and  had  it  not  been  for  the  frequent  counsel  of  hia 
fellow  captive,  he  would  not  have  been  anxious  for  ar» 
exchange. 

In  the  waters  of  the  lakes  there  are  various  kinds 
of  fish,  which  the  Indians  take  sometimes  with  spears  ; 
but  whenever  they  can  obtain  hooks  and  lines  they 
prefer  them.  A  fish  called  ozoondah,  resembling  a 
shad  in  shape,  but  rather  thicker  and  less  bony,  with 
which  Lake  Erie  abounded,  was  often  dressed  for 
their  table,  and  was  of  an  agreeable  taste,  weighing 
from  three  to  four  pounds. 

They  drew  provisions  this  summer  from  the  forts, 
which  frequently  induced  the  Indians  to  repair  thither. 
The  king,  his  daughter,  granddaughter,  and  Rebecca, 
went  together  upon  one  of  these  visits  to  Fort  Erie, 
where  the  British  officers  entertained  them  with  a  rich 
feast,  and  so  great  a  profusion  of  wine,  that  the  Indian 
king  got  very  drunk ;  and  as  he  had  to  manage  the 
canoe  on  their  return,  they  were  repeatedly  in  danger 
of  being  overset  among  the  rocks  in  the  lake. 

Rebecca  and  Benjamin  met  with  much  better  fare 
than  the  other  captives,  as  the  family  they  lived  with 
Were  but  seldom  in  great  want  of  necessaries,  which 
were  the  only  advantages  they  enjoyed  beyond  the 
rest  of  their  tribe.  Benjamin  Gilbert,  as  a  badge  of 
his  dignity,  wore  a  silver  medal  pendant  from  his  neok. 
The  king,  queen,  and  another  of  the  family,  together 
with  Rebecca,  and  her  cousin  Benjamin,  set  off'  for 
Niagara,  going  as  far  as  Fort  Slusher  by  water,  from 


310  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

whence  they  proceeded  on  foot,  carrying  their  loads 
on  their  backs.  Their  business  at  the  fort  was  to  ob 
tain  provisions,  which  occasioned  them  frequently  to 
visit  it. 

Rebecca  indulged  herself  with  the  pleasing  expecta 
tion  of  obtaining  her  release,  or  at  least  permission  to 
remain  behind  among  the  whites ;  but  in  both  these 
expectations  she  was  disagreeably  disappointed,  having 
to  return  again  with  her  captors ;  all  efforts  for  her 
release  being  in  vain.  Colonel  Johnson's  housekeeper, 
whose  repeated  acts  of  kindness  to  this  captured 
family  have  been  noticed,  made  her  some  acceptable 
presents.  As  they  had  procured  some  rum  to  carry 
home  with  them,  the  chief  was  frequently  intoxicated, 
and  always  in  such  unhappy  fits  behaved  remarkably 
foolish.  On  their  return,  Thomas  Peart,  who  was  at 
Fort  Niagara,  procured  for  Rebecca  a  horse  to  carry 
her  as  far  as  Fort  Slusher,  where  they  took  boat  and 
got  home  after  a  stay  of  nine  days. 

Soon  after  their  return,  Rebecca  and  her  cousin 
were  seized  with  the  chills  and  fever,  which  held  them 
for  near  three  months.  During  their  indisposition  the 
Indians  were  very  kind  to  them  ;  and  as  their  strength 
of  constitution  alone  could  not  check  the  progress  of 
the  disorder,  the  Indians  procured  some  herbs,  with 
which  the  patients  were  unacquainted,  and  made  a 
plentiful  decoction ;  with  this  they  washed  them,  and 
't  seemed  to  afform  them  some  relief.  The  Indians 
accounted  it  a  sovereign  remedy.  The  decease  of  her 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  34* 

father,  cf  which  Rebecca  received  an  account,  kept 
her  in  a  drooping  way  a  considerable  time  longer 
than  she  would  otherwise  have  beenJBfinCTOtt  L 

As  soon  as  she  recovered  her  health,  some  of  the 
family  again  went  to  Niagara,  and  Rebecca  was  per 
mitted  to  be  of  the  company.  They  staid  at  the  fort 
about  two  weeks,  and  Colonel  Johnson  exerted  him 
self  in  order  to  obtain  her  release,  holding  a  treaty 
with  the  Indians  for  this  purpose ;  but  this  mediation 
proved  fruitless :  she  had  therefore  to  return  with 
many  a  heavy  step.  When  they  came  to  Lake  Erie, 
where  their  canoe  was,  they  proceeded  by  water. 
While  in  their  boat,  a  number  of  Indians  in  another, 
came  towards  them,  and  informed  them  of  the  death 
of  her  Indian  father,  who  had  made  an  expedition  to 
the  frontiers  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was  there  wounded 
by  the  militia,  and  afterwards  died  of  his  wounds  ;  on 
which  occasion  she  was  under  the  necessity  of  making 
a  feint  of  sorrow,  and  weeping  aloud  with  the  rest. 
When  they  arrived  at  their  settlement,  it  was  the 
time  of  gathering  their  crop  of  corn,  potatoes,  and 
pumpkins,  and  preserving  their  hickory-nuts.  About 
the  beginning  of  the  winter,  some  British  officers  came 
amongst  them,  and  staid  with  them  until  spring, 
using  every  endeavor  to  obtain  the  discharge  of  the 
two  captives,  but  without  success.  Rebecca  and  her 
cousin  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  brother,  Abner, 
who  came  with  the  family  amongst  whom  he  lived, 
to  settle  near  this  place  ;  and  as  they  had  not  seen  each 
29* 


342  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

other  for  almost  twelve  months,  it  proved  very  agree 
able.  Thomas  Peart  endeavored  to  animate  his  sister, 
by  encouraging  her  with  the  hopes  of  speedily  obtain 
ing  her  liberty ;  but  her  hopes  had  so  often  failed, 
that  she  received  little  consolation. 

An  officer  among  the  British,  one  Captain  Latte- 
ridge,  came  and  staid  some  time  with  them,  and  inte 
rested  himself  on  behalf  of  the  prisoners,  and  appeared 
in  a  fair  way  of  obtaining  their  release ;  but  being 
ordered  to  his  regiment,  he  was  prevented  from  fur 
ther  attention  until  his  return  from  duty ;  and  after 
wards  was  commanded  by  Colonel  Johnson  to  go  with 
him  to  Montreal  on  business  of  importance,  which 
effectually  barred  his  undertaking  any  thing  further 
that  winter. 

It  afforded  her  many  pleasing  reflections  when  she 
heard  that  six  of  her  relatives  were  freed  from  their 
difficulties,  and  Thomas  Peart  visiting  her  again,  con 
tributed,  in  some  measure,  to  reanimate  her  with 
fresh  hopes  of  obtaining  her  own  freedom.  They 
fixed  upon  a  scheme  of  carrying  her  off  privately ; 
but  when  they  gave  time  for  a  full  reflection,  it  was 
evidently  attended  with  too  great  danger,  as  it  would 
undoubtedly  have  much  enraged  the  Indians,  and  per 
haps  the  life  of  every  one  concerned  would  have  been 
forfeited  by  such  indiscretion.  During  the  course  of 
this  winter  she  suffered  many  hardships  and  severe 
disappointments,  and  being  without  a  friend  to  un 
bosom  her  sorrows  to,  they  appeared  to  increase  by 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  343 

concealment;  but  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  she 
summoned  up  a  firmness  of  resolution,  and  was  sup 
ported  under  her  discouragement  beyond  her  own 
expectations. 

The  youth  and  inexperience  of  her  cousin  did  not 
allow  a  sufficient  confidence  in  him,  but  she  had  often 
to  interest  herself  in  an  attention  to,  and  oversight 
cf,  his  conduct ;  and  it  was  in  some  measure  owing  to 
this  care,  that  he  retained  his  desire  to  return  to  his 
people.  Colonel  Butler  sent  a  string  of  wampum  to 
the  Indian  chief,  who  immediately  called  a  number  of 
the  Indians  together  upon  this  occasion,  when  they 
concluded  to  go  down  to  Niagara,  where  they  under 
stood  the  design  of  the  treaty  was  for  the  freedom  of 
the  remainder  of  the  prisoners ;  for  especial  orders 
were  issued  by  General  Haldimand,  at  Quebec,  that 
their  liberty  should  be  obtained.  At  this  council-fire 
it  was  agreed  that  they  should  surrender  up  the  pri 
soners.  When  they  returned,  they  informed  Rebecca 
that  Butler  had  a  desire  to  see  her,  which  was  the  only 
information  she  could  gain  ;  this  being  a  frequent 
custom  among  them  to  offer  a  very  slight  surmise  of 
their  intentions. 

After  this  the  whole  family  moved  about  six  miles 
further  up  Lake  Erie,  where  they  staid  about  two 
months  to  gather  their  annual  store  of  maple  sugar, 
of  which  they  made  a  considerable  quantity.  As  soon 
as  the  season  for  this  business  was  over,  they  returned 
to  their  own  settlement,  where  they  had  not  continued 


344  HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

long,  before  an  Indian  came  with  an  account  that  an 
astonishing  number  of  young  pigeons  might  be  pro 
cured  at  a  certain  place,  by  felling  trees  that  were 
filled  with  nests  of  young,  and  the  distance  was  com 
puted  to  be  about  fifty  miles ;  this  information  de 
lighted  the  several  tribes ;  they  speedily  joined  to 
gether,  young  and  old,  from  different  parts,  and  with 
great  assiduity  pursued  their  expedition,  and  took  an 
abundance  of  the  young  ones,  which  they  dried  in  the 
sun  and  with  smoke,  and  filled  several  bags  which 
they  had  taken  with  them  for  this  purpose.  Benjamin 
Gilbert  was  permittel  to  accompany  them  in  this  ex 
cursion,  which  must  have  been  a  curious  one  for  whole 
tribes  to  be  engaged  in. 

As  the  time  approached  when,  according  to  appoint 
ment,  they  were  to  return  to  Niagara  and  deliver  up 
the  prisoners,  they  gave  Rebecca  the  agreeable  infor 
mation,  in  order  to  allow  her  some  time  to  make  pre 
paration.  She  made  them  bread  for  their  journey 
with  great  cheerfulness.  The  Indians,  to  the  number 
of  thirty,  attended  on  this  occasion,  with  the  two  cap 
tives.  They  went  as  far  as  Fort  Slusher  in  a  bark 
canoe.  It  was  several  days  before  they  reached 
Niagara  Fort,  as  they  went  slowly  on  foot.  After 
attending  at  Colonel  Butler's,  and  conferring  upon 
this  occasion,  in  consideration  of  some  valuable  pre 
sents  made  them,  they  released  the  two  last  of  the 
captives,  Rebecca  Gilbert  and  Benjamin  Gilbert  jr. 

As  speedily  as  they  were  enabled,  their  Indian  dress 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  GILBERT  FAMILY.  345 

was  exchanged  for  the  more  customary  and  agreeable 
one  of  the  Europeans  ;  and  on  the  3rd  of  June,  1782, 
two  days  after  their  release,  they  sailed  for  Montreal. 
On  the  22d  of  August,  attended  by  a  great  number 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  place,  they  embarked  in  boats 
prepared  for  them,  and  took  their  departure  for  home  • 
and  on  the  28th  of  the  following  month,  arrived  at 
Byberry,  the  place  of  their  nativity,  where  Elizabeth 
and  her  children  were  once  more  favored  with  the 
agreeable  opportunity  of  seeing  and  conversing  with 
her  ancient  mother,  together  with  their  other  nearest 
relatives  and  friends,  to  their  mutual  joy  and  satis 
faction  ;  under  which  happy  circumstances  we  now 
leave  them. 

We  have  condensed  the  foregoing  narrative  from 
an  anonymous  work,  entitled  "Incidents  of  Border 
Life," 


THE  EVENTFUL  SHOT. 

THE  following  narrative  is  given  in  the  "  Ohio  His 
torical  Collections."  Mr.  Joel  Thorp,  with  his  wife 
moved  with  an  ox  team,  in  May,  1799,  from  North 
Haven,  Connecticut,  to  Millsford,  in  Ashtabula  county, 
and  they  were  the  first  settlers  in  that  region.  They 
Boon  had  a  small  clearing  on  and  about  an  old  beaver 
dam,  which  was  very  rich  and  mellow.  Towards  the 
first  of  June,  the  family  being  short  of  provisions,  Mr. 
Thorp  started  off  alone  to  procure  some,  through  the 
wilderness,  with  no  guide  but  a  pocket  compass,  to  the 
nearest  settlement,  about  twenty  miles  distant,  in 
Pennsylvania.  His  family,  consisting  of  Mrs.  Thorp 
and  three  children,  the  oldest  child,  Basil,  being  but 
eight  years  of  age,  were  before  his  return  reduced  to 
extremities  for  the  want  of  food.  They  were  compelled, 
in  a  measure,  to  dig  for  and  subsist  on  roots,  which 
yielded  but  little  nourishment.  The  children  in  vain 
asked  for  food,  promising  to  be  satisfied  with  the  least 
(346) 


THE  EVENTFUL  SHOT.  347 

possible  portion.  The  boy  Basil  remembered  to  have 
seen  some  kernels  of  corn  in  a  crack  of  one  of  the  logs 
of  the  cabin,  and  passed  hours  in  a  unsuccessful  search 
for  them.  Mrs.  Thorp  emptied  the  straw  out  of  her 
bed  and  picked  it  over  to  obtain  the  little  wheat  it 
contained,  which  she  boiled  and  gave  to  her  children. 
Her  husband,  it  seems,  had  taught  her  to  shoot  at  a 
mark,  in  which  she  acquired  great  skill.  When  all 
her  means  for  procuring  food  were  exhausted,  she 
saw,  as  she  stood  in  her  cabin  door,  a  wild  turkey 
flying  near.  She  took  down  her  husband's  rifle,  and, 
on  looking  for  ammunition,  was  surprised  to  find  only 
sufficient  for  a  small  charge.  Carefully  cleaning  the 
barrel,  so  as  not  to  lose  any  by  its  sticking  to  the 
sides  as  it  went  down,  she  set  some  apart  for  priming, 
and  loaded  the  piece  with  the  remainder,  and  started 
in  pursuit  of  the  turkey,  reflecting  that  on  her  success 
depended  the  lives  of  herself  and  children.  Under  the 
excitement  of  her  feelings  she  came  near  defeating 
her  object,  by  frightening  the  turkey,  which  flew  a 
short  distance  and  again  alighted  in  a  potato  patch. 
Upon  this,  she  returned  to  the  house  and  waited  until 
the  fowl  had  begun  to  wallow  in  the  loose  earth.  On 
her  second  approach,  she  acted  with  great  caution  and 
coolness,  creeping  slyly  on  her  hands  and  knees  from 
log  to  log  until  she  had  gained  the  last  obstruction 
between  herself  and  the  desired  object.  It  was  now 
a  trying  moment,  and  a  crowd  of  emotions  passed 
through  her  mind  as  she  lifted  the  rifle  to  a  level  with 


HEROIC  WOMEN  OF  THE  WEST. 

her  eye.  She  fired ;  the  result  was  fortunate :  the 
turkey  was  killed  and  herself  and  family  preserved 
from  death  by  her  skill.  Mrs.  Thorp  married  three 
times.  Her  first  husband  was  killed,  in  Canada,  in  the 
war  of  1812  ;  her  second  was  supposed  to  have  been 
murdered.  Her  last  husband's  name  was  Gordiner. 
died  in  Orange,  November  1st,  1846. 


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